Killing the Monster
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Set in season 4 after Twisted Sister. Deep Six is a success, but the atmosphere at NCIS is still a bit chilly. But there are others who don't like what Tim wrote in Deep Six than his team...and those people are more than upset. Already complete. 24 chapters. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **A while back, I had the idea to write a story involving _Deep Six_, where the story itself became pivotal to the story, not just a side note. So, this is the result. It's set in season 4, after _Twisted Sister_, but before _Driven_; so the team is still miffed at Tim for how he wrote the book. No, this is not a bad!team and poor!McGee story. You might say, "Poor Tim!" but not because the team is mean to him. :) I've made up the entire plot of _Deep Six_ and it's probably not what most people would imagine it to be. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS or its characters. I am not making any money off this story.

* * *

**Killing the Monster  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

"_Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public." _

_Winston Churchill _

**Chapter 1**

There was still a bit of a chill at NCIS. Tim had tried to convince everyone that the characters he wrote about were only caricatures of his friends and coworkers. It wasn't meant to be reality. In reality, the point of writing this book had not been the characters. It had been the case. That was the reason for the book and the reason he was happy about its success.

His phone rang and he answered.

"McGee."

"_Agent McGee, you have some visitors down here. You expecting anyone?"_

"No, Henry. I'm not expecting visitors. I'll be right down."

"_They say they're old friends of yours."_

"Okay."

Tim hung up and looked around. Tony glanced up.

"Someone else you wrote about, Probie?"

"I have no idea _who_ it is, Tony. ...and I didn't write about _you_. It was only vaguely supposed to be someone like you. If you're bugged by it, then it's clearly _not_ you," Tim said.

He hurried to the elevator before Tony could say something else. He wished, for the millionth time, that they hadn't found out about _Deep Six_. He'd started on a sequel, but it was slower going, for more reasons than the reactions of his friends.

He was making up the case this time.

When he stepped off the elevator, his brow furrowed at the sight of the two men standing next to Henry.

"Hello," he said carefully.

"Wow...the little geek has grown up."

That triggered a memory...not a pleasant one, unfortunately.

"What brings you here?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"We wanted to catch up with an old friend."

"You want to take them up, Agent McGee?" Henry asked.

Tim shook his head.

"No. Why don't we go outside to...catch up?" Tim suggested.

"Sure. Let's go."

"If Gibbs comes down here looking for me..."

"I'll let him know," Henry said, but he looked at Tim significantly, obviously noticing the lack of warmth in the interactions.

Tim just smiled his thanks and walked out.

The smile vanished as soon as they were out the doors.

"What are you doing here, Louis?"

"So you _do_ remember us, McGeek."

"Hard to forget," Tim replied with a sarcastic smile. "Louis Dietrich and David Larson. The Palindromes."

"Clever. That's what the little dweebs thought of us, huh?"

"Well, I knew that you two had no idea what a palindrome was," Tim said. "What are you doing here?"

David smiled. On the surface they were keeping it, oh, so polite, but there was something going on.

"My wife gave me a book for my birthday," Louis said.

"Congratulations," Tim said. "You finally learned how to read?"

Louis sneered a little but didn't reply to the insult.

"Imagine my surprise when I knew what was going to happen in this book. Imagine _our_ surprise when we looked at the picture on the dust jacket and recognized our old friend, Timothy McGee, writing under a pseudonym."

Tim didn't show it, but his heart sank a little. He hadn't thought that these two would even crack the spine of _Deep Six_. Not ever. Reading hadn't exactly been _high_ on their list of priorities in high school. Stepping on those who offended them, yes. Reading, no.

"And?"

Louis dropped the act for a moment and stepped very close to him.

"And what were you trying to pull, writing that crap?"

"It's a novel, Louis," Tim said, keeping himself from cringing the way he had always cringed in high school. "It's _fiction_. What are you worried about?"

"You think that gets you off the hook?"

"Off what hook? The situation hasn't changed since high school. It's still the same as it was then. ...except that you don't scare me anymore." Tim leaned in even closer. "I'm not a kid anymore. You want to push me around and try it again? Huh? Or...what about Jillian? Does _she_ have anything to say nowadays? How is _she_ doing? You always did perform better with an audience to watch your idiocy...and she certainly did that for you. Maybe she still does. Is she still the cheerleader of the LDDL fan club? Does she do it for you both?"

Louis' expression darkened and he started to get closer, one of his hands clenching into a fist. Tim tensed, ready to react to any physical violence, but David pulled him back.

"No, Louis. Not here."

Louis got himself under control almost immediately. He smiled.

"See you around, McGeek."

"I doubt it, Louis," Tim retorted with more than a little satisfaction. "If you're here to bluster, you've done that. You can't change how successful _Deep Six_ has been, how many know the story. What are you going to do? Claim defamation when it's a fictional novel and your name doesn't appear? How will you explain how you know about it? You worried you'll suddenly develop a conscience?"

Tim grinned, enjoying their powerlessness. It wasn't as bad as what he had felt at their hands, but it was more than he'd ever thought he would have as a teenager.

"You watch your back, McGee," David said.

"I always do...and even better, I have other people who watch my back, too. This isn't high school anymore, and I'm not scared of the playground bullies. You push and I'll push back. I'm working on a sequel now. Maybe I'll put some more reminiscences into it. I wonder how many other people will notice, how many others will start to think about it again. What do you think?"

Louis stepped toward him again, but again, David held him back.

"McGee!"

Tim was actually relieved to hear Gibbs calling him, even if he seemed a little miffed.

"I have a job to do," Tim said. "I think I'll get back to doing it. You can see yourselves to the exit. Don't come here again."

Tim turned to go back to NCIS.

"Think you're tough, McGeek?" Louis spat. "Let's see how tough you are without that gun."

Tim paused and turned back.

"And how tough are you, Louis, when you don't have six other guys around to help you beat up a sixteen-year-old? Or is that 300-dollar suit covering up some actual muscle?"

With that, he went on his way to where Gibbs was standing at the entrance.

"You taking breaks on your own time now, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Some...old friends dropped by, Boss. I didn't know they were going to be here. I talked to them for a minute or two and told them I had to work. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"Good. I don't care how much teasing those two do, you can't just stop working whenever it suits you."

"Understood," Tim said.

He had no intention of explaining what was going on. Actually, seeing Louis and David so hot under the collar made him feel a little better about the flak he was still getting from his book. ...but it wasn't like he could explain all that to the others.

Some things just needed to be left in the past.

Sometimes, there was no other option.

As he walked in, he saw Henry ready to ask him about them, but he shook his head slightly and Henry got the message. Tim smiled his thanks and followed Gibbs back to the bullpen.

"Drive them away, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim opened his mouth to retort, but he didn't get any further than that.

_Thwack!_

_Thwack!_

"Enough!" he said. "I don't want to hear another word about that book. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Boss," Tony said.

Gibbs looked at Tim who felt a bit irritated. He wasn't the one who brought it up. It was the others. He would have been happy to keep it a secret. If only Sarah hadn't said anything.

"It won't come up again on my account, Boss," Tim said, unable to keep some of the irritation out of his voice.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Everyone got back to work.

That evening, Tim lingered a little bit to let Tony and Ziva get out ahead of him. Abby wasn't as angry at him as the others were, but she was a bit cold as well. Tim hoped that it would only take a few weeks until everything calmed down. He didn't want this to become the norm. Part of him wanted to explain, but he couldn't really, not with how things had fallen out back in high school. He had told Erin Kendall that he joined law enforcement by design, but it hadn't given him the result he'd wanted and so he'd turned to his occasional hobby of writing as an outlet.

If he closed his eyes, he could see it all as if it had happened just yesterday, not 20 years ago. He could hear it and smell it and see it. ...and feel the incredible injustice of being ignored.

With a sigh, he got his stuff and headed out. This wasn't nearly as bad as high school, but it still was disappointing to have this coldness lingering.

"Agent McGee."

"Hey, Henry. Thanks for not saying anything to anyone."

"Those weren't friends."

"No, they weren't."

Henry wasn't in his book, and if he'd heard anything, he hadn't taken it out on Tim. He was as kind as ever and, right now, more than a little concerned.

"Who were they?"

"My former bullies...from high school."

"What were they doing here?"

"They recognized me as Thom Gemcity."

Henry smiled.

"Wanted to rub shoulders with someone famous?"

"Not exactly. They just saw something of themselves in the book and weren't too happy about it...like everyone else here."

"It'll pass. People get uptight but they'll relax. Just got to ride it out."

"I hope it happens sooner rather than later. I know I shouldn't have used names so close to theirs, but it was so much easier to write that way. ...kind of like a shield."

That last part was an accidental slip.

"What do you mean?" Henry asked.

"Nothing. Don't say anything to anyone about them, okay? I don't think they'll ask, not with how they've been acting, but these guys aren't from around here. I haven't seen them since high school. I'd rather not have to go into any detail about my old bullies. They were seeing if they could still intimidate me, but they can't. I'd rather just let the past stay in the past."

"Sounds like a plan to me. I can keep things to myself."

"Thanks, Henry."

"Have a nice evening, Agent McGee."

"Will do."

Tim walked out of the building and got in his car. He drove home and went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Louis was still fuming.

"What he wrote in there! We can't let him get away with it!"

"He already has, Louis," David said. "And he's right. Nothing has changed."

"Except what _else_ he said. People will start to think about it again, find the things that don't quite fit. He's a cop now!"

"Which is why we should just let it go."

"No! I'm not letting some geek turned two-bit author jeopardize everything I've built. I have a life that I like and I'm not going to let _anything_ interfere with that, David. You got it?"

David sighed and went along...as he always had.

"Fine...but if we're going to do this, it has to be planned out. We have to get away with it. ...just like last time, but if we do the same thing as last time, it's going to look suspicious. We have to be careful. How long are you in town?"

"As long as I need to be. Jillian's learned not to expect me."

"Okay. Sleep it off tonight and we can start talking about it tomorrow...and please, don't do anything until we've made plans. I don't want to go to jail, not for someone like the geek."

Louis smiled. He was getting his way and his temper mellowed.

"We won't. We didn't last time."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Over the next few days, things continued along a depressingly-familiar track. Tony couldn't seem to stop bringing up Tim's book, and every time he did, Ziva would throw a cold look Tim's way. Jimmy hadn't started talking to him yet and even Abby was a little miffed.

He knew that, if he just explained the real reason why he'd used names so close to those of his friends, they'd stop being so upset (well, maybe)...but their reactions had triggered his own stubborn streak. It was the same small fire of rebellion that the bullies hadn't managed to douse when he was in high school. The fire that had led to his fighting back once...and winning, although it was extremely temporary and had only made the bullying worse later on.

If they weren't going to listen to him when he said it wasn't them, that he hadn't been intending this as any kind of insult to them, then, he wasn't going to disabuse them of the notions they had come up with. He wasn't going to beg for understanding. ...even though he would have liked to explain everything. Maybe he shouldn't have put all those details in, but he had thought that the melodramatic nature of the descriptions would have made it obvious that these weren't real people he was talking about.

That had backfired. Badly.

Eventually, the tension would ease, and things would get back to normal, but it hadn't yet and Tim wished it would.

The one good thing was that he hadn't seen Louis or David anywhere. That meant they'd taken his threat seriously and were leaving things as they'd been for the last twenty years. It wasn't as though anything could ever change.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

David sat back after explaining the plan. Louis was the one who _did_ things, but he needed David to make the plans. He had no ability to really get a good plan made, one that wouldn't lead to their getting caught. He never had.

"I don't know," Louis said. "I think there are easier ways."

"Probably there are, but not ways that we can manage and have a hope of getting away with it. This is the best. We cover it as a random mugging. We don't leave fingerprints. We don't have any interactions with him..."

"What about that security guard? He saw us."

"And we were introduced as old friends," David said. "Maybe he wasn't convinced, but he has nothing to say, and why would he think to bring it up? Why would they even think to ask him about a mugging?"

"True."

"Okay. So let's just start watching him. Then, we can pick the best time. Are you sure you want to go through with this? I don't think it's necessary. Nothing can change what happened back then."

"Absolutely. The little twerp is going to pay."

David stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "All right. Then, let's go over it one more time."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three days later..._

It was late to be shopping, but Tim knew that he needed to get some real food in his apartment. If he didn't do it now, he probably wouldn't have time until the weekend and that meant takeout. He was trying to save money. He'd done some unwise splurging after the first royalty checks had come, but now, he needed to be more careful with his money.

He was just running down to the corner market to grab a few things.

He didn't make it there.

As he walked by one of the many little alleys, gloved hands grabbed him and pulled him into the darkness, one hand covering his mouth before he could shout for help. Then, another hand put a strip of duct tape over his mouth. It was too dark to see faces. He could make noise, but no shouting. He got a couple of swings in, but they slammed him against the wall and his head cracked against the brick, leaving him more than a little dazed.

He tried to fight back, but there were two of them...and he was feeling distinctly foggy. He was definitely outnumbered and they had surprise on their side. Before he could do anything, he was being punched and kicked, multiple times. One was doing the holding and the other was doing the damage.

One particularly vicious punch in the stomach dropped him to the ground, leaving him gasping for breath, and for the first time, he heard voices.

There was laughter. Malicious...and familiar laughter.

"No, you idiot! I told you. The gun will make noise! We don't want anyone to hear us. Use the knife."

"Right."

Tim rolled away from his attackers and felt a widening band of fire across his chest and then another sharp pain in his arm. He just couldn't seem to get away from them. They were everywhere.

Then, he thought he heard a dog barking. A big dog.

There was an encroaching darkness.

"Come on, let's get out of here!"

"He's not dead yet!"

"Doesn't matter. If he's not, _we _will be if they catch us! Run!"

Then, there was a wet nose nuzzling at him and a whine.

"Kahuna!"

Tim started trying to get up, but there was this big mass that kept pushing at his face, and a strange sparkling darkness kept spreading.

"Kahuna! Where are you?"

There was a bark, right by his ear.

"Sir...Sir, are you–?"

Tim fell back to the ground. There was a bit of pain as the duct tape was pulled away. Then, there was a dog licking his face.

"Oh, man, you're bleeding. What happened?"

"Two...men..."

"I don't see anyone. Nevermind, I'll call for help. Kahuna, leave him alone."

The dark mass vanished. Tim tried to get up, but it seemed completely dark. It was like he was blind and the darkness was sapping all his strength.

"Dog?"

"Yeah, my monster. I've never been so glad he got away from me before. Just hold tight."

"Maybe...I should get one for myself..."

The darkness was complete.

"Sir! Sir!"

The voice got farther and farther away until there was no sound at all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs came into work early the next morning. He was trying to decide if he should do something about the continued tension among the members of his team. Tim was trying not to aggravate it, and as for the others...well, it would take time. He had to admit that seeing such a melodramatic version of himself had been disconcerting at best. Nearly alcoholic with...what had Tim called it? A Messianic complex, although that was just on the dust jacket. He wondered if Tim had really written the summary himself.

Gibbs had seen the book quite soon after its release and hadn't said anything to the team about it. He hadn't even indicated he knew that Tim was writing, although Tony had made more than his share of allusions. Gibbs could have told Tim that using names very similar to those of his coworkers was a bad idea...especially once he'd seen just _how_ Tim had described and used them. Tim should have known that it would create this kind of resentment. However, Gibbs hadn't been consulted and the only reason he hadn't said anything to Tim before was because he could see that Tim himself wanted to keep it a secret. Everyone had their rights to privacy. If it hadn't been for Tim's sister spilling the beans, it was highly unlikely that Tony and Ziva would ever have known about it. They weren't big readers.

Still...

He sat down and noticed that the light on his phone was blinking. It was too early for this. He picked it up and dialed for the voice mail.

"_Hey...uh...Boss...I, uh, want you to know that...that I won't be coming in for the next...few days. I'll take unpaid...leave since I didn't clear it before. I'll fill out the form and...and everything...later. I'm sorry, but I just can't...make it. Sorry. Bye."_

That was Tim, but he sounded winded. No, it was more than winded. He sounded _hurt_. In pain. Kind of dazed. Why? He dialed *69 to call the number back (one of the few things he knew how to do on the phone) and to his surprise, it wasn't Tim's phone.

It was a hospital.

A hospital. Tim was calling from a hospital and hadn't mentioned it once. ...and he was expecting that Gibbs would just accept that he couldn't come in without asking for details? Was he out of his mind? ...or just not thinking clearly from whatever injury he'd suffered to land him at a hospital.

That wasn't going to stand. Gibbs got up from his desk and left NCIS, intent on getting to the bottom of whatever had happened. Tony and Ziva could work on their own.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Could you tell me what room Timothy McGee is in?" Gibbs asked.

The nurse hesitated and so Gibbs pulled out his badge and showed it to her.

"NCIS. He works for me."

She nodded quickly and looked it up.

"He's in room 213."

"Thank you."

Gibbs strode down the hall and found the indicated room. It wasn't the ICU or anything, which was a definite relief, but when he opened the door, his agent was asleep in a bed. What he could see wasn't great. Tim had a black eye, a couple of stitches along his eyebrow, a darkening bruise on his cheek, and a bandage on one of his arms. It didn't look _too_ bad, but if he had been kept in the hospital, he must have something else that Gibbs _couldn't_ see. They wouldn't keep him overnight for a black eye.

And why in the world would Tim not have mentioned that he'd been in a fight or attacked or whatever had happened?

"McGee!" he said sternly.

Tim's eyes opened lazily and then closed.

...and then opened again very quickly. He started to sit up but winced and sagged back against the mattress.

"Boss...what are you...how did you... What's going on?"

Tim started to put the bed up to allow him to sit in a more dignified fashion. Gibbs watched him without comment.

"I might ask you that same question," he said when Tim was more or less sitting up.

"I called. I said I wouldn't be in. I didn't want you to think I was just pretending again. I let you know I wasn't going to be at work."

"Because? What happened, McGee?" Gibbs demanded. "And why didn't you bother to mention that you were in the hospital? And why take unpaid leave?"

"It wasn't important," Tim said and looked down.

"Why not?"

"Because it was just some guys who were going to...mug me. They didn't get anything and I'll be fine. I'm not hurt that bad. They're only keeping me here as a precaution."

"Why?" Gibbs asked.

Tim kept his gaze on his lap.

"Well...I got a concussion. Since they didn't want me to be alone overnight in case something went wrong, they kept me here. They've been waking me up every few hours to ask me questions. That's it."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Look me in the eye and say that again."

Tim lifted his eyes to Gibbs for a moment and then dropped his eyes back down...without speaking. Gibbs didn't bother asking why he hadn't called anyone to stay with him. Given the current climate, Tim probably didn't want to bother.

"What happened, McGee," Gibbs said in a tone that didn't convey any kind of actual question. It was a demand.

"I was walking to the grocery store to get some stuff. I hadn't been shopping in a few days. They pulled me into an alley, smacked me around a little and then some guy's big dog came over and drove them off. He called for help and they brought me here. That's it."

Gibbs might have believed him, might have believed that Tim was just feeling a little embarrassed about what happened. He might have believed it because Tim got weird about some things like that. Unfortunately for Tim, his doctor chose that moment to look in on Tim and see how he was doing.

"Oh, good. You _do_ have someone to check on you, Mr. McGee," he said and looked at Gibbs. "Hello, I'm Dr. Brown. Are you a relative?"

"No, I'm his boss. Agent Gibbs."

"Agent?"

"NCIS."

"Oh...why didn't you mention that, Mr. McGee...or _Agent_ McGee?" he asked.

"Wasn't important," Tim said. "That wouldn't change how I got treated, would it?"

"Of course not, but you indicated that you'd be paying for this yourself. Why do that if you have insurance? I'm assuming you do."

Gibbs looked at Tim. "Yeah, McGee...why?"

Tim looked away. Tim's reticence was making Gibbs more and more suspicious.

"So...what happened? Since my agent seems to have gone mute?" Gibbs asked.

"He's lucky. The concussion was minor, but while he'll be very sore for a few days, the beating didn't result in any broken bones. And the knife wounds, while long, aren't deep enough to cause major internal injury. He has a lot of stitches, but he'll recover. He was outnumbered, and if they hadn't been driven off, I'll bet he wouldn't have lasted much longer. There's a definite sense from the injuries of an intention to cause harm."

"You didn't mention the knife, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim said nothing. He was staring hard at his lap. Almost defiantly saying nothing.

"MPD has already been here and spoken with him, although they were planning on coming back to get a better statement. He was still a little loopy last night when he first got here."

"Thanks. How long will you keep him here?"

"Just until the afternoon. There's no sign of the concussion worsening, and very little internal bleeding, but he won't be in any state to work until next week."

"It's not that bad," Tim muttered.

"I beg your pardon, _Agent _McGee, but it is. You had minor internal bleeding, contusions, a concussion, and if you hadn't managed to evade it, a knife wound that could have been fatal. You're barely able to stand up yet, let alone do your job...as a federal agent, apparently. Even if you were a _librarian_, you'd have trouble for the next few days."

Gibbs noticed that Tim wasn't trying to move at all. In fact, he was staying extremely still as if movement was something he wanted to avoid. That told him as much as the doctor had.

"Thank you, Dr. Brown. Could I have a moment with my agent?"

"Of course. Just let me check his stats."

Gibbs nodded and stood waiting as the doctor did his job. He didn't want to start grilling Tim with an audience. As soon as the door closed behind Dr. Brown, though, Gibbs turned on Tim.

"What happened?"

"I told you already. Two guys tried to mug me and got driven off by some guy's dog."

"Yeah, but you're not telling me everything. Who was it?"

"It was a couple of guys...who tried to mug me."

"You said that already. Why are you lying to me?"

Tim lifted his head and looked at Gibbs.

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Because you want this to be random, but it's clear that you know it's not."

"What makes you think that?" Tim muttered, sounding almost irritated.

"The fact that you're avoiding making eye contact. The fact that you refuse to tell me anything. The fact that getting _any_ information out of you is like pulling teeth. Should I go on?"

"It's no one's business," Tim said.

"In the future, McGee, always be specific when you're lying. You can't just refuse to say anything. This shouldn't have been an issue that needed concealment. The more you're trying not to tell me anything, the more sure I am that there's something important you're not saying."

Tim said nothing.

"What's going on, McGee?" Gibbs snapped. "You're acting like a kid who got caught in a lie."

Tim jumped a little.

"Nothing."

But for some reason, Tim almost seemed shaken by what Gibbs had said...and it wasn't like Gibbs had said anything earth-shattering. There was something going on...and it was serious, more serious than he had thought.

"What is it, Tim?" he said, almost gently.

Tim still wouldn't look at him.

"Have you read _Deep Six_?"

"Yeah."

"You have?" Tim asked, sounding surprised.

Gibbs laughed a little.

"Yes, I have."

"Then, you know what it is. Not that there's any evidence. There never has been. That's why it doesn't matter because no matter what I say, there's nothing to make it better."

"What are you talking about?"

"A murder, Boss. I'm talking about a murder."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"He's not dead. No way. You didn't even get the knife anywhere _near_ deep enough to kill him!"

David sighed. Louis was angry and he wasn't even making sense.

"Louis, you had the knife. I just kept you from using the gun."

"If we'd used the gun, he'd be dead!"

"And we wouldn't have got away with it," David said. "They can trace guns. You wanted revenge. Well, I don't want to go to prison for the rest of my life for killing a federal agent, no matter _what_ he did."

"If they figure out what happened..."

"Why would they?" David asked. "There's no more evidence than there was in high school."

"But now, he's a federal agent who wrote a book. He's not just the nerd anymore, David! He's a best-selling author and a man who works for the federal government. People will listen to him now."

"If he thought they would, he would have made more waves than just that book."

"I'm not willing to take that chance. Besides, now that we attacked him once, we can't take the chance that he'll figure out it was us."

David sighed again.

"You're saying you're not giving up."

"I've never given up yet," Louis said.

"This is a bad idea, Louis. We tried. It didn't work. We should just cut our losses."

"No way."

David had known that would be Louis' attitude.

"All right. We'll have to be careful. More careful than before. We can't try the same thing twice. It'll look suspicious. Will Jillian be your alibi?"

"Jillian knows better than to contradict what I say," Louis said with a smirk.

David sometimes regretted keeping in touch with Louis. He was too full of himself, too uptight to think clearly. They hadn't needed to kill Tim to keep him from talking. Sure, David had been upset about the book, too. He'd thought that was all buried in the past and to have it dragged up again by some nerd-turned-author was annoying, possibly risky, but he could acknowledge when there was no good in persisting. This would be a good time to stop, before things got worse.

That's not how Louis played, though. Louis played to win. If he didn't win, _everyone_ was miserable. He would make sure of it. That's how he'd got so far in the business world. He made himself indispensable and then used that to get further.

And David had already involved himself in it...in his usual role. The one who made the plans and helped execute them but didn't actually _do_ anything. Still, if he tried to pull out now, Louis wouldn't allow it because Louis was smart enough to know that he _wasn't_ smart enough to pull it off himself. ...and David was fairly certain that Louis would make _sure_ David couldn't pull out.

"I have an idea," David said.

"What?"

"It'll have to wait until we know for sure that he's driving again."

"Driving?"

Louis smiled in anticipation.

"It's not foolproof," David warned. "Can't be."

"That's all right. I'll take it."

_Of course you will,_ David thought. _What else would you do? It's not like you could think of anything useful yourself._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What do you mean it's about a murder? What murder?"

"The one in _Deep Six_," Tim said, but he sounded bitter and unwilling to elaborate. "Only in _Deep Six_ I could at least make sure it ended right."

"So tell me."

"No. There's no point and I'm not getting myself pulled back into that again. I was so upset when it happened that Mom and Dad sent me to a shrink...and the shrink thought I was lying, too. So I'm not getting into it. No."

"And the mugging? You're just saying no to that, too?"

"No one else is in danger," Tim said. "Doesn't matter because there's no evidence, just like last time."

Very bitter.

"Your testimony might be considered evidence."

"It wasn't last time."

This last time. Gibbs tried to remember what the case _was_ in _Deep Six_. It wasn't as though he'd spent a long time on the thing. He'd seen it and read it and then set it aside. It was a _novel_, for crying out loud!

"What was the last time?"

Tim smiled a little.

"Don't remember, huh? It's just a story to you...to most people." Suddenly, Tim looked up. "This is no one's business but mine. It was a mugging. It failed. I'm sure they won't try it again. I'm fine, or I will be in a few days. There's nothing else I have to say, Boss."

Gibbs had the distinct impression that Tim was a little miffed by the fact that he couldn't remember what had happened. He supposed, with Tim's current list of injuries, he had the right to feel put out, but it was kind of petulant in a way, and he didn't like to think about his agent getting targeted. That part wasn't going to work. Gibbs didn't walk away from his people if they could be in danger. But he also couldn't force Tim to explain...especially not right now. Tim had that stubborn expression on his face. Maybe once Gibbs had refreshed his memory of what the case in _Deep Six_ was.

"This isn't over, McGee."

"It is as far as I'm concerned. I'm not getting anyone else involved in something that's over."

"You're assuming you have a choice. I'll be back with the forms for your leave. I'm not letting this go," Gibbs said.

Tim didn't look happy about it, but then, he probably wasn't happy about much right now. He was too miserable.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_What's up, DiNardo?" Tibbs demanded gruffly._

"_Looks like a suicide, Boss," Tommy said. "That's what the local LEOs are calling it, anyway. Girl had been depressed for a long time." _

_Tibbs walked over to the tree and looked up. There was a teenage girl hanging at the end of a rope, green leaves surrounding her, giving a glow that surrounded her like a shroud. No one could have seen this unless they were right beneath her...and looked up toward heaven, only to see Hell above._

"_Sandy! Sandy! You can't leave her up there! Get her down! Take her down!"_

_The anguished cries burst out of nowhere, shaking the air with the pain contained within them. Tibbs looked toward the voice. There was a teenage boy running toward them. One of the LEOs was coming after him, trying to catch him before he could bother the important people._

_The boy ran to the tree and tried to climb up the branches to the dead girl. The cop stopped him, held him back._

"_Get her down!"_

"_Johnny, stop this! Come on back to the car," the cop said with a tolerant tone._

"_You can't just leave her up there, not like _they_ did! They killed her!"_

_Tibbs held up his hand to stop the cop._

"_Who are you?" he asked tersely._

"_This is John Ballot," the cop said. "He's the one who reported Sandra's death."_

"_She was murdered!" John cried out, as if the louder he spoke the more likely it would be that someone would believe him. "They killed her. She didn't just die!"_

"_How do you know?"_

"_Because they told me to come here and they said she'd be dead!" John shouted. "They killed her. I know they did!"_

_Tibbs raised an eyebrow at the cop._

"_He's talking about Colin Bete and Lawrence Bouche. They have an alibi."_

"_They're lying," John said. "They're lying!" He almost screamed the last word. He was clearly upset almost beyond reason._

"_Johnny, come on back. Your parents will be here soon. It'll be okay."_

"_Sandy's dead and you're just leaving her up there! ...where _they_ put her!"_

_Tibbs stopped the cop from leading John away. He looked the tortured young man in the eye and he saw something that it seemed the others had missed. Yes, he was engaging in hyperbole, but what Tibbs saw was sincerity. John wasn't just angry and grief-stricken. He was sure about this. This was more than the suicide of a depressed young woman._

"_John, go with him for now. We'll talk to you again later."_

_John looked, frankly, very skeptical. He didn't seem to believe that Tibbs was sincere._

"_I promise. We're looking into this, John."_

"_Yeah, right," John said. "You're just like everyone else. All you see is what's obvious. You don't bother to look for anything else but what you expect. They saw her and they assumed it was suicide. Sandy wasn't feeling the greatest, but that was because of the bullies. They wouldn't leave her alone! But she wasn't going to kill herself. I know it."_

_Then, John squared his shoulders and attempted to look much older than his baby face allowed. He walked away from the crime scene._

"_I'm sorry about that, Agent Tibbs," the cop said. "John was friends with Sandra. In fact, from what I know, they were each the only friend the other had."_

"_Why is that?" Tibbs asked._

"_John moved in and then was moved up. He's too smart, and Sandra...well, she just didn't fit in. Not sure why."_

"_Bullies?"_

"_No reports from the school of bullying. Apparently, neither of them ever said anything. And like I said, both Colin and Lawrence have alibis for last night."_

"_Do you know when she died?"_

"_Well...no...but..."_

"_Then, you're not really in a position to say whether or not they have alibis, are you."_

_The cop stammered a bit and then excused himself. Tommy came over._

"_You think there's more to this, Boss?" he asked._

"_There almost always is. Where's Lisa?"_

_Tommy's expression became a bit leering. "Last I saw her..."_

"_I don't want to know about your little trysts, DiNardo."_

_Tommy cleared his throat hurriedly._

"_She's talking to the girl's parents. When are we taking her down?"_

"_When the ME has a chance to evaluate. We don't touch the body until he says so."_

"_Yeah, okay."_

Gibbs set the book down. A murder that looked like a suicide? This must be what Tim was talking about. If the murder was that personal, then _John_ must be Tim as a teenager, and if that anguish Tim had written was even close to genuine, then, he could see why it was still a problem for him, but he _couldn't_ see why this was coming up now.

If this was related to what Tim wrote in _Deep Six_ and had to do with his insistence on murder, then, who was it and why now?

"Boss, where have you been? And where's McGee?" Tony asked.

"Yes, it is late in the morning," Ziva said. "What is going on?"

Gibbs debated keeping this a secret and then dismissed the idea. For one thing, if Tim was truly under threat, he needed all the help he could get, but also, maybe this would be a way to ease the irritation and bitterness about the characters in Tim's book.

"McGee is in the hospital."

"What?" Tony asked. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"He was mugged. At least, that's what it looks like."

"Meaning what?" Ziva asked. "If it only _looks_ like it is a mugging..."

"It has something to do with his book."

"Come on. We're the only ones with a reason to be mad about the book," Tony said.

"Not if the case was real," Gibbs said.

"The case?" Ziva asked. "What _was_ the case?"

"The real reason McGee wrote the book. A case that was never solved, a murder that occurred when he was a teenager. He was a witness."

Tony looked at Ziva and then back at Gibbs. It was clear that neither one of them had paid attention to the case. Their focus had been entirely on themselves. Understandable, but not helpful for the current situation.

"McGee witnessed a murder when he was younger?" Ziva asked.

"Apparently. I only know what's in the book."

"But why? Didn't McGee tell you more about it?" Tony asked.

"No. He doesn't want to."

"What happened to him?"

"A concussion and about forty stitches across his chest and arm from a knife. He'd be dead but some guy's dog got away and drove the people attacking him off."

"And he doesn't want to tell anyone?"

"He says that it's in the past, that there's no point in revisiting it."

"But whoever these people are have attacked him because of his book?"

"Apparently."

"So...what are we going to do?"

"We're going to find out who it is and stop them," Gibbs said. "So find out what case this is referring to because McGee is being stubborn. He's going to resist making this into a case now."

"We only have the names of the characters in his book?" Ziva asked.

"For now."

Gibbs picked up the sick leave forms and headed out again. Tony and Ziva, as he had hoped, had put aside their feelings of betrayal and were focused on how to protect Tim from being hurt again.

He just hoped that Tim would open up and let them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tony looked at Ziva as soon as Gibbs was gone.

"This couldn't be joke, could it?" he asked.

"I do not think Gibbs would joke about McGee being attacked."

"But...the case being real? I didn't even pay attention to the case."

"Nor did I." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a copy of _Deep Six_.

"Wait...you keep it here?"

"I looked through it here and never bothered doing more. Why take home something I would never waste time reading?"

"Well, we're going to be wasting time now," Tony said. "Let's see what we can find."

Ziva began flipping through the pages to find the beginning of the book, searching for references to the murder, the victim, the culprits and Tim as a witness. She read out the names and the situations and Tony recorded them and then started searching for anything from Tim's past that fit.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs strode back into the hospital, forms in hand. No matter what Tim tried to do to deny it, he couldn't stop them from starting an investigation into who had attacked him. He walked to Tim's room.

...and found it empty.

Slightly worried and more than a little irritated, Gibbs walked back out and to a nurse's station.

"Did Timothy McGee check out?" he asked.

The nurse looked it up.

"Uh...yes. Only about half an hour ago, though."

"Thank you."

Gibbs left the hospital and headed for Tim's apartment. He was more than irritated now. Tim could be in danger and he was just waltzing off by himself without telling anyone. It was like he thought that, if he ignored the situation, it would go away. Until they knew who had attacked him and why, there was no way they'd stand back and accept that.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Okay, where's the kid?" Tibbs asked._

"_His parents came and got him."_

"_Did I or did I not specifically say that I was going to talk to him?" Tibbs asked, his voice becoming sharp as shards of metal._

"_He had a bad day. He was really upset about seeing his friend up there like that. He found her body. He deserved a chance to calm down."_

"_DiNardo!" Tibbs said angrily._

"_Yeah, Boss?"_

"_Stay here until Dr. Eider gets here. See if you can keep our other witnesses from wandering away," Tibbs said with a hard blue eye on the LEO._

"_On it, Boss."_

"_As soon as Dr. Eider and Jalmer get the body out of here, go and check on these other boys, the bullies."_

"_With pleasure. Can I make them cry?"_

"_No."_

"_Shucks."_

"_Not yet, anyway."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim winced as he got back into his apartment. It was a relief to have made it, but he was starting to think that just maybe his doctor was right and he should have stayed a little bit longer at the hospital before coming home.

No matter. He was home now and he could just go and fall into bed and sleep the day away with his powerful painkillers.

...no, he didn't want to fall into bed. That would hurt too much. He would sit carefully and then lie down on his bed and sleep the day away.

Yeah, that sounded much better.

He thought briefly about the two men he knew were the guilty parties. Gibbs was going to hound him about this. He knew it, but he also knew, from years of experience, that they would have alibis. Louis would have an alibi from Jillian, and David would get one by default. Tim wondered, as he had numerous times before, why David had hooked up with Louis. The only reason Louis had succeeded in so much torment was because he had David standing in his shadow, telling him what to do. David was the smart one. Louis just had no conscience holding him back from doing anything.

Of course, thinking about Louis and David brought his thoughts around to Melissa, and Tim hated thinking about her. He hated remembering how she had looked in that tree.

It was funny in a way. Everyone at NCIS thought that it was a mark of how mediocre a writer he was because he'd used those silly names. The _real_ people in the story had names completely different from reality. Especially the young Tim McGee. It also vaguely amused him that he didn't have McGregor figure things out. No, the computer geek couldn't do any more in the fictionalized account than he could in reality. It had to be L. J. Tibbs who solved the case and saved the day.

Tim suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of his apartment, staring at nothing. He definitely needed to go to bed. He started walking toward his bedroom with the idea of going into the bathroom first to take his powerful medication.

Before he could take three steps in that direction, unfortunately, there was a knock at the door. Tim thought about answering it, but no, he was too tired and achy to answer the door. He wanted to sleep. No one should be expecting him to be home right now. So he could ignore the door without guilt.

He started walking again.

"McGee!"

Gibbs.

Uh-oh. That wasn't good. Gibbs hated to be kept in the dark, Tim knew. He wouldn't be happy about Tim leaving the hospital, either. If Tim refused to let him in, that would be compounding the problem. With a sigh, he trudged to the door and opened it.

"Boss, I was just about to get into bed."

"Not here, you're not."

Tim furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"You had people trying to kill you, McGee. You aren't staying here."

Tim sighed painfully.

"Boss, it's not going to happen again. It was an attempted mugging and it failed."

"An attempted mugging by people you know."

"Boss, it doesn't matter. They won't try it again."

"How do you know that?"

"Because then, they'd run the risk of getting caught. As it is, they will have alibis, and there is nothing to tie them to what happened to me."

"Except that you know who it was."

"I had a concussion. I'd been beaten up. How reliable is that kind of testimony?" Tim asked. "I know how reliable it is. It's not reliable at all."

Gibbs was annoyed, as Tim knew he would be.

"Why are you stopping this before it can get started?"

"Because it doesn't _matter_, Boss!"

"Doesn't matter? Your almost getting killed doesn't matter?"

"No. It doesn't. No more than anything else mattered back when I was in high school."

"I looked at _Deep Six_."

Tim nodded. "I figured you would, but you looking at it can't change anything now."

"Didn't you say that you had the right ending in the book?"

"Yeah...because I _wrote_ it, Boss. It's fiction. Not reality. Reality doesn't work like that."

Tim was tired. He hurt more than he wanted to admit. All he wanted was to fall (no, sit down carefully) onto his bed and rest his injured body.

"I'm not leaving here, Boss. I'm going to bed. I have some painkillers that I'm going to take which will probably knock me out until tomorrow morning. That's all I want right now."

"You are _not_ staying here alone until I'm satisfied that these guys, whoever they are, aren't coming after you again."

Tim sighed.

"Why? If you would have just accepted it when I said that I wasn't coming in for a few days, you wouldn't _have_ to worry about it. This isn't anything that's going to change the past. You're worried. I'm not. I'm just tired and hurting and I want to sleep."

"Fine. But not here."

Tim felt like he was going to fall over. He walked over and sank down onto a chair.

"Come on, Boss. Just let me go to bed. Nothing's going to happen."

"I know, because you're not going to be here."

Tim could see that Gibbs wasn't going to let him go to bed. He sighed and started to stand up to pack some things. He was surprised when Gibbs pushed him back down to the chair.

"What do you need?"

"How long are you going to keep me out of my own home?"

"Until I know you're safe."

"I'm safe enough now."

"No, you're not. What do you need?"

"My painkillers. They're on the counter. I guess I'll need clothes, too, but I don't care what you get. I can do it myself."

"Right. Stay there."

Tim sighed again, but he didn't say anything else. He just listened as Gibbs rummaged through his private life because he didn't have the energy to keep protesting. He sat where he was and wished he was getting into his bed and going to sleep. He wished that Gibbs hadn't clued in to his injury. He wished that David and Louis hadn't found out about _Deep Six_. ...and while he was wishing, he wished that Melissa hadn't been killed.

_How would my life be different if she hadn't died? If I hadn't found her?_

Who knew?

A few minutes later, Gibbs came out with a duffel bag. He added Tim's meds to it and then gestured.

"Let's go."

Tim sighed one more time and got to his feet, feeling more tired and achy than ever. He followed Gibbs down to his car. He got in and leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

"Why did you leave the hospital?"

"Because I could. I promised to take it easy. That's all I needed. That was my plan...until you showed up."

Gibbs just chuckled. Tim closed his eyes.

...and fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs suppressed a smile as Tim started snoring. It didn't take long. He hadn't been lying about how tired he was, but then, he shook his head in frustration at Tim's reticence. Why was he refusing to explain exactly what had happened? If it was the same people who had killed a teenager years ago, then, why would he think he was now safe?

No matter what, though, Tim was going to get protection. No way was he going to open himself up for another attack.

And Gibbs hoped that Tony and Ziva had made some progress because he wanted to have as much ammunition as possible when he confronted Tim on this old case. If L. J. Tibbs could solve the case, then, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was going to do the same. No way would a fictional character have the advantage over the real version.

They got to Gibbs' house, and he woke Tim up. Then, he led him inside.

"There's a spare room back there," he said.

Tim said nothing. He was clearly in more than a little pain; so Gibbs got him his powerful painkillers. Tim took them, walked to the room, sat down on the bed, painfully got his shoes off and then lay down.

He was asleep again in two minutes.

Gibbs walked back out to the living room and pulled out _Deep Six_. Time to get more information on what had happened back in this heretofore hidden part of Tim's life.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, so there are two teenagers that are accused by another teenager of murdering yet _another_ teenager," Tony said.

"Clearly, if we are to take this as an event from McGee's life, then, he must be the accuser, the boy named John Ballot," Ziva said. "Sandra is his friend who died. Then, there are two other boys, described as bullies."

"Colin Bete and Lawrence Bouche," Tony said.

Ziva's brow furrowed for a moment.

"What?"

"Are you sure it is not _bête_?"

"No. Why?"

"Because that is French."

"What does it mean?"

"Stupid. Or beast. Or idiot. It is not complimentary."

"What about _bouche_?"

"_Bouché_," Ziva corrected. "That would be...stupid or idiot, as well."

Tony laughed. "So no question about how McGee feels about these two. That's actually...really clever. Why was he so lame with us?"

"That is not our task," Ziva said. "We need to find out who these boys were in reality."

"We don't even know where McGee _was_ when he was sixteen. His dad's in the Navy. They could be anywhere."

"But he graduated that year, yes?"

"Oh...yeah. There's got to be something we can find."

Ziva smiled suddenly. "I will find something first."

"You're on, Officer David."

They started to search for information about Tim's background, treating it like a game for the moment, and also, for the moment, forgetting about their annoyance from only a couple of hours before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Gibbs heard something from the spare room. Was Tim awake already when he'd claimed that the painkillers would knock him out for the rest of the day? He got up and walked back. He opened the door quietly.

Tim was asleep. He was mumbling in his sleep. For a while, there were no words that Gibbs could understand. Tim didn't seem especially upset. He was just mumbling.

Gibbs was about to leave when he heard a name.

"Melsssaaaa..."

He turned back and waited.

"Mellllliiiisa..."

It sounded like _Melissa_.

"...taaaaaake herrrr downnnn..."

There was a real name. If Tim was remembering what had happened, this might be the real victim. There was no screaming, no thrashing, nothing to show extreme emotion, but he was also basically drugged into sleep.

"...caaaaaan't...leave..." Tim mumbled. "...Melllllllissa..."

Then, he was back to unintelligible mumbling. Gibbs left the room as quietly as he'd gone in.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ha! I found McGeek's high school yearbook!" Tony said triumphantly.

"Where did he graduate?"

"Newport, Rhode Island. His dad was stationed at the base there."

"Congratulations," Ziva said.

"You owe me lunch."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Very well."

Tony grinned, but then his phone rang. He answered.

"DiNozzo."

"_Have you found anything?"_

"We just found McGee's high school. Rhode Island."

"_The girl who died was probably named Melissa."_

"How do you know that? I thought McGee wasn't telling you anything."

"_He didn't. He's asleep."_

Tony's brow furrowed.

"Uh...Boss, why are you listening to McGee talking in his sleep?'

"_Because he left the hospital and went home. I made him go to my house. He's asleep right now in my spare room."_

"He got mugged and he left the hospital?"

"_Yeah."_

"Okay. Well, we'll get started."

"_Find as much as you can."_

"Do you want us to go up there?"

"_If necessary."_

"Rhode Island is kind of far away."

"_I'll let you fly."_

Tony chuckled.

"All right, Boss." He hung up. "You want to go to Rhode Island?"

"Do we _need_ to?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know. Yet. Let's see what we can get from here."

"Is this serious enough to require that kind of investigation?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. McGee was attacked. It's supposed to be."

"Why, after all this time? Surely, if they were going to do something to him, it would have been when the book first came out."

"Maybe they didn't see it."

"Perhaps. What I really do not understand is why McGee would not say anything to Gibbs about who it was. If he knows, why must we search for answers he already has?"

"He doesn't want to get into it, but you know the boss. He's not going to let that stand if he thinks McGee might be in danger. And it's not just that. We're adding in an unsolved case. The Probie in danger _and_ an unsolved murder? Might as well _beg_ Gibbs to take it on."

"I guess. Should we look for the people we want to know about?"

"Yeah." Tony moved his chair over and Ziva joined him as he searched through the yearbook that someone had put online.

Sure, it wasn't what they were supposed to be looking for, but the first place they went was to the page with the M's. There he was. The young Tim McGee.

"Wow. He looks _so_ young," Tony said. "Look at that floppy hair! I can't believe his dad would let him have hair that long."

"McGee is not in the Navy," Ziva said. "Why would he have to have the same hairstyle?"

"Nevermind. Let's just find this Melissa."

"What grade was she in?"

"Don't know. We'll start with the seniors."

They started to scan through the list and were dismayed to find multiple Melissas...in all the grades.

"Now, what? And why are so many girls named Melissa?"

"Who knows." Tony looked at the screen for a little longer. "Hey...if this Melissa died...maybe they'll have a little tribute to her somewhere in the yearbook."

"Why?"

"That's just something that people did sometimes. We had a kid who died in a car accident his junior year. He got a little extra picture at the end of the yearbook." Tony began to scroll to the end, to the index.

On the last page, there was a picture of a cute girl, slightly overweight, lots of freckles.

"There we go. Melissa Banger. Oh...that's a bad last name to have when you're a teenager."

"Why?"

"Because..." Tony hesitated, not out of any reluctance to put the word in its context, but because it had struck him that she was dead, that Tim had claimed she was murdered. He wasn't sure why that suddenly bothered him, but it did. Still, they had a case to solve. "Because _bang_ can be slang for having sex."

"Ah. No, that would not be a good name for a girl going to high school."

"This must be her."

"Yes, it must be. So we have her name. We have the location. We know nothing else."

"I guess we should fly to Newport. I'll see if we can hitch a ride without going through the commercial airlines. I hate having to do that."

Ziva nodded and stood up. She walked back to her desk and began to read from _Deep Six_ again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tibbs could hear the shouting as he walked up the sidewalk to the neat little home. It wasn't large, but it looked like the home of an average family. He missed that sometimes. _

"_I won't pretend nothing happened! Not when I know something did!" It was a shrill voice and sounded like that of John as he'd heard him before. The shout wafted out through the open windows like a sweet aroma on a summer breeze._

_A calmer voice intervened. "No one is asking you to pretend nothing happened, John. It's a tragedy. I know she was your friend, but..."_

"_You don't know anything! You don't care about Sandy! No one cared about Sandy except me and now she's dead! I won't let anyone drag her name through the mud just because it's easier than admitting what really happened!"_

_Tibbs stood listening for a few minutes, interested in the near-hysterical shouting of a young man clearly in the height of grief and horror. His mother was trying to calm him down but it wasn't working. _

_Then, another voice joined in._

"_Don't shout at your mother, John."_

_Must be the father. John's voice was not raised in anger again. Actually, just the opposite happened._

"_I'm sorry." It was very softly spoken._

_Tibbs walked to the door and knocked._

"_No, John. Stay there. I'll get the door."_

_The door opened and Tibbs saw a woman, weary from the world's troubles, not in the mood for a stranger...but she was eminently polite._

"_Hello? Can I help you?"_

"_I'm Special Agent Tibbs. I was asked to come and help with the investigation of Sandra Owens' death."_

"_Why? We were told it was a suicide."_

"_Her father requested our assistance. I'd like to talk to John, if I could."_

"_Oh, I don't know, Agent Tibbs. It's...not a good time for him."_

"_I promised him that I would hear what he had to say."_

_She hesitated and then nodded._

"_Very well. Come in."_

_Tibbs stepped inside, keeping himself polite. The more he heard from the tortured soul that should have been a carefree teenager, the more he felt responsible to help. Whether it was suicide or murder, this young man had lost someone close to him._

_When he got into the neatly-appointed kitchen, he saw the elder Ballot standing solidly beside the young John who was seated on a chair, holding his head in his hands. It was a sad little scene but with curiously little emotional connection between the two of them. Mr. Ballot was not comforting his son in any way. He was just there._

"_John?"_

_John looked up. His face was tear-streaked. His eyes were red and puffy. He was clearly still upset._

"_You're...that cop from where...Sandy was..." He stopped and looked down. "...where they killed her."_

"_I wanted to get your side of it like I said I would," Tibbs said, keeping calm and professional, choosing to treat John like an adult rather than just another kid._

"_I thought you were just saying that," John said. "No one around here thinks I have anything important to say."_

"_I do." Tibbs sat down at the kitchen table, pulling out his notebook and a pen. He would give John the chance to say what he had to say. Not everyone got the chance to be heard and, reality or not, he at least deserved that much._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There were some pointed statements in the book that indicated Tim's bitterness. Being treated like an adult rather than a child, being given the chance to tell his side of it, being told the truth rather than a comforting lie. Tim didn't waste any time showing what should have been done...which must mean that none of it had been done. Tim had been ignored and shoved to the side. ...and a girl had been assumed to be a suicide.

With Tony and Ziva hitching a ride from JBAB up to Newport, they would at least have the chance to figure some more things out. Hopefully.

Reading between the lines of this book, and knowing that it was based on a reality he hated, it was clear that Tim felt a major injustice had occurred, but if all of these things that were going right hadn't before, then, no wonder he was still upset about it.

Gibbs closed the book and looked at the cover. He turned back to the first page and reread the descriptions of Agent Tibbs, Agent DiNardo, Officer Miller, and a background character by the name of McGregor. Tibbs had his character flaws, but he was one step shy of being some kind of investigative god. Tommy and Lisa were the ones who got all the action (in more ways than one, Gibbs couldn't help adding to himself, remembering what had irritated Tony and Ziva the most). Those three were the ones who _did_ things. He had barely seen McGregor up to the point he'd read. A computer geek who was shy and awkward but, even with his rare appearances, was entirely competent and had some confidence in what he could do. Amy Sutton, Ernie Eider and Pimmy Jalmer hadn't been in the story much to this point, but the descriptions, if one could get past the ridiculous caricatures, were of a group of people who were perfectly equipped to solve a case that no one else would be able to solve. Beneath the seeming insults was a declaration of absolute confidence in these characters to do what needed to be done:

See past the obvious and get at the truth.

If Tim hadn't gone the route he had, Gibbs rather thought that Tony and Ziva would be embarrassed by how high the pedestal was on which Tim had placed them.

Suddenly, Gibbs realized that he'd never told Jenny what he was doing. Did it really matter? No, probably not. He wouldn't change his mind no matter what she said, but it might be a good idea to let her know where her MCRT was.

He set _Deep Six_ down and picked up the phone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When the plane touched down, Ziva was relieved. She had flown on military planes quite a few times and she'd never show her discomfort, but she preferred a regular seat when she had to fly. Thankfully, this was a short flight.

She and Tony got off the plane and took a taxi to a rental place so that they could easily get around to the various places in Newport that they might need to go.

Their first stop was the police station.

They walked up to the front desk.

"Hello, we would like to get information on a case."

The officer raised an eyebrow.

"And you are?"

Tony and Ziva pulled out their badges.

"NCIS. Agent DiNozzo and Officer David."

"What case are you needing information on?"

"It's an old one."

"How old?"

"1993 or 94."

"Oh. That's a while back."

"And we'd like to speak to anyone who was working back then, if possible."

"Hmmm...okay. Um...I think Detective Wadsworth has been around that long. I'll take you over to him and then see if I can track down the file. What's the case?"

"The death of a teenager named Melissa Banger. She was found hanging in a tree."

"Oh. Nasty. Banger?"

"Yes."

"All right. I'll go down and see what I can find after I take you to Det. Wadsworth. If you'll follow me?"

They walked after the officer.

"Hey, Wad! You busy?"

Ziva raised an eyebrow and looked at Tony who stifled a chuckle. _Wad_ wasn't exactly the most complimentary name. The man who acknowledged the call had a build that could only be described as thick. He was not extremely tall, but he was almost square. He waved them over.

"What's up, Chuck?" he asked with a sly grin.

"These are NCIS agents. They have some questions about a case from '93 or '94. You're the oldest one _I_ could think of."

"Thanks, Chuck."

"I'm going to go down and see if I can find the case file."

"Okay. So...?" he asked, gesturing for Tony and Ziva to sit.

"I'm Agent DiNozzo and this is Officer David. We're with NCIS down in DC."

Det. Wadsworth raised a surprised eyebrow.

"DC? Why?"

"We have a case we're working on that seems to point up here...to this older case."

"What was the case?"

"A teenager named Melissa Banger was found dead in a tree."

"Back in '93?"

"Or '94. We're not sure of the exact year."

"Well, I was around back then. I'm only a couple of years from retirement now. I don't know if _I_ worked that case or not. Can you tell me any other details?"

"It would have been ruled a suicide, we think."

"Teenage girl committed suicide and you think it has a link to a case down in DC?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Ziva looked at Tony for a moment and then looked back at the detective.

"There would have been some conflict about the ruling, from another teenager. Timothy McGee."

"That name sounds familiar." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Let me think for a minute."

Tony and Ziva tried to wait patiently.

"A-ha! It's clicked." He sat up again and opened his eyes. "I didn't work the case, but it was something we talked about a bit when it happened. Poor kid. That Timothy McGee, you said his name was?"

Ziva nodded.

"He was the one who found her in the tree. That kind of thing will have an impact on someone. She was a friend of his, and he was almost unreasoning because of how upset he was. He accused two other kids of killing her, but we checked into it and they had alibis. There was no evidence of foul play, and it was known that she'd been depressed. Even her family accepted it. Her friend was the only one who refused. The only reason I remember this is because of something Detective Cannon said. He was the investigator for the case. He came back here and said that this kid had confronted him."

"Confronted him? About what?"

"He accused him of not trying to see the real story and he said that he was going to become a cop himself and prove everyone here wrong. The reason it was such a surprise was because this kid didn't have the attitude of a future cop. He was a nerd, really. Now, people can change and maybe he did, but that was a surprise. But it was a real tragedy, though. The whole sorry mess. There was some bullying that had been going on. It's easy to see that it could have pushed her to suicide."

"But no evidence of foul play?"

"Beyond that kid shouting about it every time he could get near a cop? No."

"Every time?"

"Yeah. He was acting a little crazy. He graduated and left. He hasn't been back here since. His family was military; so they moved not long after. Is he your link?"

"Why do you ask that?" Ziva asked.

"Because, based on the way he was acting then, I could see him losing it and taking matters into his own hands. Again, people can change, but he was unreasonable, according to Cannon."

That was what they had expected to hear, at least the assumption of suicide. It _was_ a surprise to hear about Tim from the perspective of a stranger...when he was a teenager, and to have Tim described as someone unstable was _definitely_ unexpected.

Chuck came back a few minutes later.

"I found it! You can thank me now."

"Thanks, Chuck." Detective Wadsworth took the file and looked through it a bit, nodding. "Yeah, this is the case. Cannon was the lead on it, but because it was ruled a suicide, it wasn't lengthy."

The file _was_ depressingly thin. Still, if that's what they had, that's what they had.

"Can we get copies?"

"Of course. So...are you going to tell me what case could possibly be related to the suicide of a teenager 16 years ago?"

"We're still checking into it, but someone who thinks it wasn't suicide appears to be the target of some people who don't like that."

Det. Wadsworth's brow furrowed. "Really? Someone besides the McGee kid?"

"No."

"Sixteen years later and he's still saying it was murder? That's dedication."

Tony nodded.

"Yeah. More than we expected."

"Well, good luck. If it is murder, I hope you'll find the girl's parents and tell them. They were broken up by the whole situation, and I don't blame them. There's a feeling of failing your kid if they kill themselves."

"Thanks for your time."

"My pleasure."

"Did _you_ think it was suicide?" Ziva asked. "You must have discussed it with the lead investigator."

"I accepted the verdict of suicide because there was no other evidence of foul play, but if I had been in charge, I might have taken more time...if only because of that kid. When someone has so much tied up in a case like this, it doesn't hurt to take a little longer than usual. Double-check things before you say it's over. Cannon wasn't like that. He would have called that mollycoddling."

"Would he have _not_ pursued something if it had come up?"

"No. I don't want you getting the wrong idea of it. He would have pursued any avenue that came up. He just wouldn't want to..._waste_ time pretending if he didn't see it. And he didn't."

They stood up, shook the detective's hand and left with the copy of the file, intent on checking through it to see what there was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up...reluctantly. The return to consciousness was slow and fumbling. He didn't want to get up. He was still foggy in the head and it was hard to reconnect.

He became conscious that he was kind of making some weird noises.

Then, he remembered that he wasn't at home...and there was actually someone who could be hearing him. He tried to wake up all the way so that he had more control over himself.

After an unknown amount of time, he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

"Feeling any better?"

Tim looked over toward the door. He grimaced.

"I'd feel better in my own bed," he said and was a little embarrassed by the crackly voice he heard coming from his own mouth.

All he got in response was a chuckle. He grimaced again and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He didn't _want_ to be sitting up. His whole body protested the movement, but his pride wouldn't allow him to lie around while Gibbs was there watching him.

"What time is it?"

"About nine."

Tim looked out the window.

"At night?"

"Yeah."

Tim thought about that and the significance of it suddenly hit him.

"You were here the whole time?"

"Yeah. I said that you weren't going to be without protection until I'm satisfied that you don't need it."

"But...you have a job."

"Yes, I do."

Tim thought about that some more.

"You didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Gibbs asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You didn't make this official, did you?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Tim groaned.

"I reported it to Director Shepard."

"You _what_?"

"Had to explain why the MCRT was MIA."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked, wondering if it was the painkillers that was making this so hard to follow. "Only you and I are here."

"Yep."

"Where...Where are Tony and Ziva?" Tim asked slowly.

"Probably fighting over who gets the bed at a hotel in Newport."

"Newport," Tim repeated. He didn't need to ask why Newport.

"Yeah."

"Why, Boss?" Tim asked. "You know what happened if you looked at _Deep Six_. There's no point in going back to that. I've told you that I'll be fine. Why can't you just drop it?"

"Because one of my agents was attacked."

"I'm not seriously injured. Just a little banged up."

"Because you were lucky. Or are you going to pretend that they wouldn't have killed you if they had the chance?"

Tim shrugged and stared at the bed. He knew that the intent had been there. David and Louis would have...no, _Louis_ would have killed him if that dog hadn't showed up.

"Tim, you may not care, but you are a part of my team and I don't take kindly to members of my team being targeted. I also don't like the idea of justice not being served."

"It's too late for that," Tim said, knowing he sounded bitter. "There's nothing you can do."

"We'll see."

Tim looked up. Surprised yet again.

"You're...not... You _can't_!"

"Why not? Tibbs did."

Tim let out an incredulous laugh. "Because there's no Navy connection! Tibbs was an agent at an unnamed federal agency. I could have him do whatever simply because I invented him...and the agency he worked for. It happened years ago...at a high school. It had nothing to do with the Navy."

"But an NCIS agent has been targeted because of that event."

"Don't go there, Boss. Please."

"Why not?" Gibbs asked mildly.

Tim flushed and looked away.

"How real were your descriptions of John Ballot's feelings?"

Tim steadfastly said nothing. There was a period of silence. ...and then, Gibbs broke it.

"That real?"

Tim just swallowed.

"That's why," Gibbs said.

"What's why?" Tim whispered, not trusting his voice to remain even.

"Sixteen years later and you're _that_ affected by it? That's why I'm looking into it. It means that much to you...and so it means something to me, too."

"Even if I tell you to stop?"

"Yes. Even if you tell me to stop."

Tim tried to sound annoyed, but he thought he probably failed.

"So...now, what?"

"Now, you eat something and sleep. When Tony and Ziva get back, you're going to tell us everything."

"Why? You have the book."

"That's not what I mean."

Tim looked at Gibbs again.

"What _do_ you mean, then?"

"I mean that you're going to tell us about these bullies, who they are, how they could get away with murder and with attempted murder. You're going to tell us what you know about why Melissa Banger was targeted by them and why it was so easy to believe that she committed suicide. Basically, you're going to tell us everything."

"No choice?"

"None."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're going to eat anyway. Can you get up by yourself?"

"Yeah."

Reluctantly, Tim got out of bed and followed Gibbs to the kitchen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

David pushed back from the table.

"You got it, Louis?"

"Of course," Louis said confidently.

"No. Do you got it?" David asked again. "It's not enough to be confident here. If you do it wrong, then, nothing will happen _and_ it could be traced to us."

"If you're so sure about it, then _you_ do it," Louis said with irritation.

David shook his head.

"This is _your_ idea. If it were up to me, we'd just drop it. We didn't kill him, but we hurt him, and that can be enough. There are too many things that could go wrong. If you aren't willing to stop it now..."

"Not a chance," Louis said.

"Then, _you_ have to do it. I'm showing you how, but you are the one who has to get it done. So do you _get_ what you have to do?"

Louis looked over the plans again. David felt nothing but contempt for the man. The more time passed, the more he saw what an absolute idiot Louis was. He'd never been taught to accept that failure really _was_ an option sometimes. His whole life was fueled by his ego, and it had been for as long as David had known him. If they got caught in this, David would feel no regret in pinning as much of the blame on Louis as possible. Louis was the one who'd actually done things. Sure, David knew that he'd get some blame as an accomplice, but it would be better for him than for the muscle-bound jerk that was Louis Dietrich.

"I've got it," Louis said more sincerely.

"Then, you should probably get it set up tonight. He's not at his apartment, but his car is there. You can tinker without anyone knowing. He lives alone; so there's no reason for anyone else to be driving the car. This is as close to foolproof as I can make it." _Even for a fool like you._ He added the last silently to himself.

At midnight, Louis headed out. He got back to David's place at around three. David let him crash there and then, sent him home the next day, confident that his part was done.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Tibbs had heard about John's confrontation with the police, and it made him sigh. Yes, he understood that John was upset. He had seen it himself in the rather emotional interview with the kid, but at the same time, this was bordering on irritating._

"_John."_

_John looked at him resentfully._

"_What?" he asked, sounding more like a sulky teenager than any teenager had the right to sound._

"_If you want my help, you'd better stop acting like an idiot."_

"_You said you'd look into it. They're calling it a suicide, still! You don't care about Sandy. No one does."_

"_Except you? Her parents don't?"_

_John just scowled._

"_If you want me to try to find the truth, you need to stop acting like a child and act more like an adult."_

"_And what does that mean?" John asked._

_Whether John knew it or not, Tibbs was sympathetic to how he felt. He knew the feeling of being the only one who knew what was true, the only one who wanted justice for someone who couldn't fight for herself anymore. He knew that feeling and it had driven him to the bottom of a bottle more than once. That John was feeling that at his age tore at Tibbs' shriveled heart._

"_I mean that you can't shout at people because they're not doing what you want, when you want. You have to be patient. And there's one more thing."_

"_What?" John asked, trying to be stoic._

_Tibbs leaned over to look the young man in the eye._

"_You need to trust me. I'm on your side. Trust me."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, we need to go and see if we can find a teacher who knows about these guys," Tony said. "You know...if Gibbs is getting McGee to spill the beans, I don't know why _we_ need to try to find this stuff."

Ziva shrugged. "Do _you_ want to trust what was written in a melodramatic book about things that happened that long ago? We have an objective police report and we will see if we can get an objective teacher perspective...before trusting a teenager's point of view. An hysterical point of view if Det. Wadsworth is to be believed."

"I just can't see McGee being hysterical. He's way too reserved for that. The only time _I've_ ever seen him show much is when he shot that cop...and that was him getting mad." Tony paused and thought about it for a moment. "Actually, when that computer chick got killed...he almost killed the guy who did it."

"He gets angry...which is what Det. Wadsworth said," Ziva said. "Teenagers can react to emotions much more than adults."

"Yeah, but still...I keep trying to imagine McGee being hysterical and it's not working. He's too...controlled for that."

Ziva shrugged again. "And yet, that is exactly what we have been told about him. So perhaps your perception is incorrect."

Tony chuckled. "And the Probie is secretly an unstable, crazy guy? No way."

Ziva gave a third shrug and walked out of the hotel room. "It does not have to be one or the other. People you think you know can be secretly something else. It happens."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up late in the morning, feeling rather blah, but not so foggy as he had before. He could tell that the painkillers had worn off, though. Boy, could he tell that. He ached all over. He decided to get up anyway. He wasn't going to get better by just lying around doing nothing.

...actually, he would, but he'd get better if he got up and stopped acting like a wuss, too. He pushed himself to his feet and groaned. Why bother with the beating if they were just going to kill him anyway?

He got up and shuffled to the door. Then, he paused. He knew that Gibbs was going to make him tell all the details as soon as Tony and Ziva got back...details he'd glossed over in the book, details he'd wanted to forget, details his parents would be happy never came up again. They hadn't believed him, either. Logically, he understood why. He knew that there was no evidence. He knew that Louis and David had alibis.

...and he knew something else that he'd never told anyone. Maybe he should have, but at the time, he had only thought about protecting what little honor Melissa had left. He hadn't been able to save her. All he could do was keep people from knowing the worst. So he had kept his mouth shut, although he was sure it would show up in the autopsy report. How could it not? She'd been killed only a couple of months after.

Tim shook his head and opened the door. It took him a moment to remember where the bathroom was, but then, he headed for it.

"McGee?"

Tim stopped and looked back.

"Thought you'd sleep longer."

"It's already almost ten, Boss," Tim said, knowing that he sounded grumpy. "How much longer did you think I'd be sleeping?"

"You look like you'd rather still be asleep."

"I just want to be home," Tim said with a grimace.

"Come and have breakfast."

Tim didn't see that he had much choice in the matter; so he nodded and followed Gibbs into the kitchen. Gibbs gestured for him to sit down at the table. In moments, he had a mug of coffee and a bowl of gloppy oatmeal sitting in front of him. The coffee looked good, but the oatmeal... He grimaced again, but he knew he should eat it, not just because it was polite. It would help him recover.

Gibbs let him eat in silence for a few minutes, but that couldn't last. Unfortunately.

"You know that they would have killed you," he said.

"Yeah," Tim said. He didn't see any point in denying what was obviously true when the nature of his injuries was known.

"Why are you so sure that they won't come after you again, then?"

"Because they won't want to get caught. They tried for me. They failed. They'll cut their losses. It's over, Boss."

"No, it isn't."

"And how do you know?"

"If they committed murder once, they might try it again. And there's an unsolved murder."

Tim shook his head.

"No, Boss. I don't want to get into that again. Once was bad enough."

"You wrote about it."

"Yeah, when I could make it fiction. I wrote that so that I could get the ending I wanted and then move on to other things, Boss."

"It's not over until we make things right."

"You can't," Tim said. "There's no evidence except a crazy teenager who insisted that it was murder. The people he accused had alibis. The victim had been depressed. They didn't find fingerprints on the rope...at least, I'm assuming that's the case. I never felt that the police were trying to cover anything up."

"They probably weren't. Doesn't mean they didn't miss something."

"It's been way too long. You won't get any information now."

"Tony and Ziva are doing just that."

"Then, you don't need me to do anything," Tim said. "You'll have the case file and my book. You don't need anything else."

Gibbs leaned forward and stared at him for a long time.

"This isn't about not having evidence. It's not even about whether or not they'll try again."

"Then, what is it about?" Tim asked, almost afraid of what Gibbs was going to suggest.

"It's about you not wanting to think about it. Isn't it."

Tim shook his head, whether it was true or not.

"No matter what's in your book or in the case file, you can give us information we won't have. About them. And when Tony and Ziva get back, you will."

Tim stared at his coffee mug.

"It should stay in the past."

"They didn't let it...and neither did you."

Tim swallowed.

"There are things that I didn't put in the book, things I'm not really happy about you guys knowing."

"From the case file?"

Tim nodded.

"Then, we'll wait until Tony and Ziva get here and you'll only have to say it once."

"But I _will_ have to say it once."

"Yes."

Tim sighed in resignation.

"Okay." He finished the coffee and pushed himself to his feet, feeling the aches again.

"The bathroom is back there," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded.

"There's a tub in there."

Tim smiled a little and took the hint. He walked to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to get some clothes. Then, back to the bathroom. He ran a bath, as hot as he could stand it. Then, he took off his clothes and looked at his battered body, complete with the long, stitched up slashes. He wasn't supposed to soak the stitches, but he could keep his chest and arm out of the water while he let his aches soak away in the hot water. Decision made, he got into the tub and lay back against the wall. His eyes closed and he knew he shouldn't sleep in the bathtub...

...but he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Good morning," Tony said with a winning smile at the secretary, keeping her at ease even while they showed their badges. "I'm Special Agent DiNozzo and this is Officer David. We were hoping you could help us."

The secretary smiled in reply.

"I can certainly try. What is it?"

"We're investigating a case from 1993. It has a link to this school and we were hoping that there might be a teacher or two who was working here at the time and could answer some questions."

"Of course. Let's see." The secretary turned to her computer and did a quick search. "Ah, there are five teachers who have been here since 1993. Two started that year, and the other three have been here longer than that."

"Are any of them not in class at the moment?" Ziva asked.

The secretary nodded. "Mr. John Drake. He's the computer teacher. ...and Mrs. Barbara Standish. She teaches math. They both have preps this hour. And...here's the schedules for the other three. Mr. Johnson had his prep first hour. Ms. Washington has hers fifth hour, and Mrs. Cheng's prep is just ending right now."

"Thank you. Mr. Drake's classroom?"

"Oh, of course. Down the hall to your right and take your first left. His classroom is the third one on the left."

"Thank you."

They left the office.

"You think that McGee had him."

"How could he _not_ have had him?" Tony asked. "We'll talk to all of them, but I don't see anything wrong with starting here first."

They walked down to the indicated classroom and knocked on the closed door.

"Come in!"

They stepped into a room that looked like a larger version of Tim's apartment. There were about 30 computers sitting out on tables, a corner with computers in varying degrees of completion, wires and cables spilling out of crates on a floor-to-ceiling metal shelving unit. Tony looked at Ziva and raised an eyebrow.

_See?_

Ziva chuckled.

"John Drake?" Tony asked.

The only person in the room looked up at them and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh...you're not students."

"No, we are not," Ziva said. "We are with NCIS."

"What's that?"

Tony took out his badge. "Agent DiNozzo and Officer David. Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We just have a few questions."

"About what? I've barely been on a boat in my entire life, let alone part of the Navy."

"It's about a case from 1993. Your first year at the school, correct?"

"Yeah." John looked at them both. "What is it and why now?"

"We have another case that has links to this one and we are just looking at all the angles," Ziva said. "A girl died. It was declared to be suicide."

"Oh, yeah. I remember that. It was really sad. I didn't ever have her in class. She wasn't a computer person, but she only had one friend in school, and I had him."

"Who?" Tony asked, although he knew.

"Tim McGee. He was a senior and so I didn't get to know him as well as I might have otherwise. The old computer teacher mentioned him to me when he retired, said that Tim would need some extra effort but he'd be worth spending time on. The kid was really smart, probably knew more than I did about computers, to be honest. Maybe he still does, I don't know. But he was friends with the girl, really got broken up about it when she died."

"What do you remember about what happened?"

"Not a whole lot, really. She'd been depressed, they said. Said she committed suicide. There were some bullies at the school. I only knew about two of them, but they were the worst...at least as far as Tim was concerned."

"Who?"

"The same two he accused of killing her."

Tony raised an eyebrow and John caught the motion.

"Oh, yeah. It was weird seeing Tim so...agitated. He was usually pretty reserved, even when he was enjoying himself. After the girl died...Melinda...Melissa, her name was. After she died, he was telling everyone who would listen, and even the ones who wouldn't, that these two bullies had killed her. David and...Louis were their names. Louis was a jock, lived up to every negative stereotype a jock has, although he's cleaned up his act quite a bit from what his family says. He's a businessman of some kind now. David was the one I could never figure out. He was really smart, salutatorian, in fact, but he was always with Louis, walking in his shadow, but that meant that Louis wasn't focusing on him. Maybe it was a survival tactic. I don't know. They all graduated and so I didn't get the chance to really analyze what they were doing. But David and Louis would torment Tim a lot, Melissa, too. If I saw it, I tried to stop it, but I think a lot of it happened away from the school. Melissa couldn't take it and ended up killing herself."

"That's all you know?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. It's been a long time, and even at that, I wasn't in on a lot of it because I was new. Tim's math teacher loved him, though. She might be able to tell you more about what happened. I don't know if he confided in her or not. He definitely didn't confide in me...except when he was telling me that Melissa had been killed."

"Who?"

"Barbara Standish. Tim was in every one of her classes from what I remember. She talked about how far he was going to go all the time in faculty meetings."

"What did Tim McGee tell you?" Ziva asked.

"That Louis and David had killed her. When I asked him why, he wouldn't give a reason, but he did say that they had targeted her from the beginning. I think they were both looking forward to escaping from the torment."

"If you knew it was happening, why did no one do anything about it?"

John sighed. "I was a first-year teacher and I didn't know _what_ to do, really. Actually, since that year, we haven't had that kind of problem with bullying. There have been some malicious acts sometimes, but we're pretty quick to stomp on it...now. I think that no one realized how bad it had been. It's awful that it took something like this, but it's Melissa's death that really opened the teachers' eyes to it all."

"Thank you for your time. Could you tell us where Mrs. Standish's room is?"

"One hallway over. Last one on the right. She gets a window."

Tony smiled.

"Thanks."

They walked out into the hallway and headed for the next room.

"No one seems to question the suicide ruling," Ziva said in a low voice.

"When all they had was McGee shouting about it? I guess it's not surprising. Let's see what the teacher who loved him has to say about it."

Ziva nodded. The door to Barbara's room was propped open. They still knocked politely.

A short woman with curly white hair looked up from her desk and looked at them curiously.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Agent DiNozzo," Tony said.

"I am Officer David," Ziva added. "May we take a few minutes of your time?"

"If it gets me away from grading homework, absolutely. What do you need?"

"You were here in 1993?" Tony asked.

"Yes, yes, I was."

"Do you remember the death of a student in that year? Her name was Melissa Banger."

"Yes, I do. Melissa was in a couple of my classes. It was a surprise to me that she committed suicide. Tragic."

"Why were you surprised?"

"Because she just didn't strike me as that kind of person. She was about to graduate from high school. She would have got away from the bullies."

"Do you know who those bullies were?"

"Louis Dietrich and David Larson were the major offenders, although Louis' girlfriend was always willing to be the audience. Jillian is her name."

"How bad was the bullying?"

"Worse than I thought it was if it was enough to drive her so far. I know that her friend got into trouble with them on a few occasions, especially after she died. Tim was devoted to her, and he needed something to help him work through his grief. He chose to get angry and to blame the bullies. There were a few physical fights, but before her death, that never really happened."

"What about this friend of hers?"

Barbara smiled. "He was a wonderful student. A bit awkward socially, mostly because of his status as a new student. His father was in the Navy and they had moved a lot. Tim told me once that he wondered what it would have been like to have one place to live...if people would have been nicer. Actually, I was always surprised that he and Melissa became friends."

"Why?"

"Because, on the surface, they had nothing in common. Melissa's problems stemmed from something she couldn't even control: her last name. Someone latched onto it when she first moved here and never let anyone forget it. Tim was younger and smarter. In any other situation, Melissa's sweet nature would have overcome anything else. She was a good-looking girl, although a bit overweight. She'd started losing weight just before her death. Tim was shy, awkward. I don't know what drew them together because they were friends _before_ the bullying started, at least to my knowledge." Barbara sighed. "That whole mess...so regrettable. Sometimes, I wonder if we, as teachers, could have stopped it. I know that I tried to stop those boys when I caught them tormenting anyone. I reported them on a couple of occasions when their actions seemed more malicious than teasing. I think all that meant was that they were more discrete."

"You said that Tim McGee got in fights with the bullies after Melissa Banger's death?" Ziva asked.

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad. I think the only reason Tim didn't get expelled after one of the fights was because he lost. He started the fight and if it had been only him and Louis, one on one...he might have won, but David was there, too, and he played his usual role of backup. Tim was so upset. He was out of control. The P.E. teacher stopped it. Tim respected him, although I'm not sure why when he hated P.E. as much as he did. As soon as Travis told him to stop, he did. Louis, on the other hand..."

"What?"

"I think that if there hadn't been any teachers around...Tim might have been seriously hurt in retaliation. He was furious at getting taken down by his victim. There were a lot of witnesses. Students saw the bully get hit. While I don't agree with fighting as a way to solve your problems...part of me was glad that Tim did some damage."

"What happened after that?"

"His parents had him seeing a therapist for a while. Tim told me about it, but it was near the end of the year. They graduated and, probably, they never saw each other again. Tim went to MIT, and I don't know where Louis and David went, but it wasn't there."

"Is the P.E. teacher still here?" Tony asked, trying not to sound eager.

"No, he moved just last year. Had a great job opportunity, he said. It's too bad. He was a wonderful teacher. He completely gave lie to the stereotype of coaches being bad teachers. A loss for us."

The bell rang, and Barbara shook herself.

"Well, that's the end of my prep. Did you have any other questions for me before my students descend?"

"Just one," Tony said. "In your opinion, was there anything to Tim McGee's claim of murder?"

Barbara took a breath and looked at them for a long moment.

"Are you asking me because Tim in some kind of trouble? Because Tim isn't the kind of person who would break the law. Not _ever_."

"That is not why we are asking," Ziva said. "A case we are working on has links to Melissa Banger's death. We just need to cover all the plates."

Barbara's brow furrowed.

"Bases," Tony said quickly. "All the bases."

"Ah. Well...I'd like to say that I have complete faith in Tim's claim, but it always felt to me like he was simply desperate to find a reason for a tragic occurrence. So far as I know, there was no evidence of murder, and as horrid as Louis and David were, I can't imagine that they would _kill_ someone. They were eighteen."

Students started coming into the room and taking their seats.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Standish."

"You're welcome," she said and then turned her attention onto her students. "Reagan, Brian, Jodi and Alan, put your problems on the board. Everyone else, get out your homework and get ready to check it."

Tony and Ziva left the classroom and wound through the crowds back toward the office.

They caught the other teachers during lunch and during their preps and then headed back out to their car. When they got in, they looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.

"Sounds like McGee was more than upset," Tony said.

"Yes. It would seem so."

"And even the people who liked him and trusted him didn't think there was anything to his accusations. What if he's wrong? What if she did just kill herself?"

"Regardless, he _was_ attacked."

"But he thinks it's the same two guys he accused before. Why? Why them and why now?"

"I do not know why, but we can ask him. I do not think there is more to gain by staying here. We have a beginning. We should go back and see what more we can find...by talking to McGee himself."

Tony nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

They went back to their hotel, checked out and then hitched a ride back to DC.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Gibbs hadn't heard any sound from the bathroom for a while. He walked over to the door and knocked.

"McGee?"

There was a sudden splashing sound. Then, silence. Then, a sheepish voice.

"I wasn't asleep!"

Gibbs almost laughed. Tim had obviously fallen asleep in the bathtub. It was actually kind of nice to know that Tim had relaxed enough to do that, but it wasn't really the safest thing to do, either.

There was some more splashing.

"Was there something you needed, Boss?"

"No," Gibbs said, letting some of his amusement come out.

"Okay," Tim said.

The definite sound of Tim getting out of the bathtub. Gibbs withdrew to give him privacy. As he did, he looked at _Deep Six_ again. He found a few things interesting in the book. First, Tim hadn't made the character obviously based on himself the hero. Tibbs was the one who solved the crime. He was the hero of the story. McGregor was minor. Second, John Ballot wasn't exactly the most sympathetic character in the book. Yes, he was a grieving teen, but he was unreasonable in a lot of his actions. In fact, if Gibbs hadn't known that John was supposed to be Tim himself, he would have guessed that John was being set up to be the surprise killer. ...but that hadn't happened in the book. The two bullies had been caught in the end. Actually, Gibbs was surprised that the book had become a bestseller when the killers had been _named_ almost from the beginning. But maybe that was it. Gibbs wasn't a big reader, but maybe the fact that they _seemed_ obvious had fooled people into thinking it was someone else. Third, Tim hadn't bothered to justify the presence of federal agents investigating the death of a teenager beyond to say that the girl's parents had requested it. Maybe there was something more that would come up later in the book, but as far as Gibbs remembered, they were just there, finding the truth...in a way that local police hadn't.

He flipped through the book and, again, came back to how guilty John appeared. Why? Was it really just a literary convention or was there a deeper meaning to it?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Hey, Boss, your little accuser is UA," Tommy said._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean that he is not at home and he skipped school, and no one seems to know where he is," Tommy said helpfully. "UA."_

"_He is a strange boy," Lisa said, flipping her long, curly, dark hair back over her shoulders, her brown eyes dark with the omnipresent suspicion for the intentions of others. "I don't know that he is really telling us everything. I question trusting him so far as you are."_

"_His best friend got killed, Lisa," Tibbs said impatiently._

"_His _only_ friend," Tommy corrected. "And why would this girl latch onto someone like John Ballot? Or why did she let him latch onto her? He says it was these bullies, but they have alibis, Boss. Multiple people are saying where they were...and it was nowhere near a big tree where a girl choked to death."_

"_We don't stop until we're sure," Tibbs growled. "You never stop until it's over."_

_Man, he needed a drink._

_He needed a drink after he found John...wherever he was._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim thought about trying to sneak out of Gibbs' house for about the fiftieth time, but since all he wanted to do was go home, it wasn't as though Gibbs couldn't find him again and force him to come back, and lecture him in the process. No, it would be best if Tim just rode this out until Gibbs conceded that it was fine.

It wasn't even that Tim didn't know how close he'd come. It was just that David and Louis had always shown themselves to be masters of self-preservation. They'd failed and it would be safer to leave things be now, and besides, it wasn't like he'd done any good in fighting back. Just like when he was younger, all the will in the world couldn't change the fact that he was a big wimp. ...or that Louis was a pretty strong guy on his own and David was more than capable of holding Tim down.

He winced again as he put on some clothes. He hated that his old bullies still had the ability to get the upper hand. He was an adult now. He wasn't a teenager, scared of everyone. He should be able to hold his own, but he still couldn't do it.

Tim left the bathroom and limped into the main room.

"Now what?" he asked.

Gibbs looked up.

"Tony and Ziva are on their way back. When they get here, we get the whole story."

"It's not going to do any good, Boss."

"Why is McGregor such a small part in your book?"

Tim's brow furrowed. Was Gibbs really asking him about his writing? Really?

"The subtitle is _The Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs_, not Agent McGregor," Tim said.

"But why? Why not have yourself as the main character?"

"McGregor is no more me than Tibbs is you or Tommy is Tony. The similarities are all superficial. Extremely superficial." Tim sat down on the couch and leaned back. "I don't know why no one believes me."

"Because the names just _happen_ to be very similar to your teammates' names. What were you thinking about when you did that? You changed your own name and the people in the case. Why keep these like this?"

"Because it was a choice I made. I never even imagined that any of you would ever see the book. It's a crime novel. They're a dime a dozen and mine isn't amazing in any way. There's no deep message. It's not _important_ literature. It's just a book I wrote because I wanted to have some way to get my high school bullies what they deserved. I think the only one more surprised that it's a bestseller than you guys is me. I'm glad it is, but I never expected it to be."

"Then, why try to get it published at all if you didn't expect it to succeed?"

Tim smiled and shrugged. "Why not? I'd finished it, and I figured that the best way to get revenge was to have someone else read it and cheer against them. They hate being weakened in anyone's eyes. Actually, one of my favorite thoughts when it started becoming successful was how many people would be reading it and wanting them to go down."

"And you're surprised that Tony and Ziva and Jimmy are bugged by it?"

"They weren't supposed to see it. If Sarah had kept her mouth shut, they wouldn't have."

"Never?"

Tim shrugged again.

"Never is a long time. But why would they read it? They don't read the kinds of books I write. I have a _nom de plume_. They wouldn't have seen it or cared about it if they did."

"The title?"

"That was Lyndi's decision. She wanted something that would drag people in to read it. I liked that there was a nautical relation, even though there was nothing Navy in the book. The idea of concealing a body or making the truth hard to find, that's what Lyndi was going for with the title." Tim furrowed his brow. "Why all the questions about the book? You already know why I wrote it and you read it."

"Why have John look like a suspect?"

"Because he would have been a suspect."

"Were you?"

"It was a suicide, remember? There _were_ no suspects."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"You said I only had to go through all that once," Tim said and looked at the floor.

"So there is more than just a suicide."

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"Achy. Tired."

"Tony and Ziva won't be here for a few hours. Feel free to sleep."

"Here."

"Stop trying to get out of it, McGee," Gibbs said sternly. "You're not going to put yourself at risk."

Tim sighed and got to his feet, feeling the ache again.

"I guess I'll go take a nap."

"You do that."

Tim grimaced and hobbled back to the spare room. He took his painkillers and went back to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a hard landing, and Tony suppressed the groan only with difficulty. He was definitely glad to be done with these.

"We need a private plane," he complained.

"We did not have to pay for this," Ziva pointed out.

"That's the only good thing about it."

They got their bags and got off the plane. Tony pulled out his phone.

"Boss, we're back."

"_Come over here. McGee is going to tell us the details."_

"Good. Because there's not much we have to show for the trip, but, Boss..."

"_What?"_

Tony looked at Ziva. She shrugged. Better to say it now when Tim wasn't listening in.

"What we found was that...McGee was kind of...unreasonable...almost crazy in how much he was fixated on the bullies as killers. There was no evidence for it, and I'm not sure there's going to be anything to it...unless McGee was hiding something from the police."

"_We'll find that out."_

"Okay. See you in a few minutes."

Tony hung up.

"We're going to Gibbs' place. Apparently, there's more that McGee can tell us."

"There had better be. If not, then, there is nothing we can do, and we have wasted a lot of time."

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up when he heard the voices out in the main room. Tony and Ziva were there. He groaned softly and wished he could go back to sleep and ignore all this, but he also knew that was impossible.

Moving as carefully as possible, he got up and shuffled into the living room.

"Man, Probie, you look like crap," Tony said. "They did a number on you."

"Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate that. It's done wonders for my self esteem," Tim grumbled. Then, he noticed what Tony was holding. "That's the case file?"

"Yeah."

"Not much to it, is there," Tim said.

"No, there is not," Ziva agreed.

"Have a seat, McGee," Gibbs said, gesturing.

Tim sat down.

"What do you want me to say that you couldn't get either from my book or from the case file? And what do you think you're going to do about it, anyway? They investigated it before."

"As a suicide and you have insisted it was not," Ziva said.

"But you don't believe it," Tim said. He could see it in the way Ziva was speaking. In a way, it was almost disappointing, although Tim himself had looked at the evidence later and could acknowledge that there wasn't much to go on.

"There is no evidence."

"No...not really, I guess."

"Not really?"

"Well, they had some of it, they just interpreted it wrong."

Tony looked at Ziva and then at Tim.

"What are you talking about, Probie? I didn't see anything in there."

Tim looked at Tony and Ziva.

"Come on. You can't tell me that you didn't at least _wonder_ about it, just a little bit?"

"Wonder about what?"

Tim felt a stirring of anger. "Are you getting some kind of cheap thrill out of this?" he asked. "Revenge because you refuse to believe me when I said that the characters aren't supposed to be you? Are you really that _petty_?"

"What are you _talking_ about, McGee?" Tony asked. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

Tim looked at Gibbs who just raised an eyebrow.

"The abortion!" he said finally. "Did you not wonder about that at _all_? An 18-year-old girl gets an abortion and that didn't set off a single red flag? Not one?"

Tony looked at the file and then at Ziva again.

"There's no abortion in the file, McGee."

Tim looked at them all.

"There has to be. That would show up in an autopsy and I know she got one...a couple of months before she died. They _asked_ me about it. How could it not be in the file?"

"There was nothing about that, and Detective Wadsworth said nothing."

Tim held out his hand for the file. Tony handed it over and Tim searched through it. He hadn't wanted to read the autopsy report. He knew what would be in there and he didn't want to see pictures of Melissa dead. The autopsy report was there...with nothing about Melissa's abortion. He laughed.

"I can't believe it. I wonder if it was Dad or Melissa's parents who got that taken out." He laughed again and shook his head. "I can't believe it."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Can't you figure it out, Boss?" Tim asked, feeling even more angry. Was Gibbs deliberately playing dumb?

"Humor me."

"Melissa got...pregnant and got an abortion."

"Got pregnant, how?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked down. He had kept Melissa's secret for so many years that, even though he knew it was important for all the information to be known, the teenager he had been still had the idea that a secret _had_ to be kept. No matter what.

"How, McGee?"

"She was raped," Tim said. "She was raped and when she realized that she was pregnant, she got me to help her find a place to get an abortion."

"She didn't make a report?"

"No."

"Who did it?" Gibbs asked.

"Take a wild guess," Tim said. "Just try and guess."

"The bullies?"

"Well, just one, but the other was always there to hold the victim down," Tim said, feeling his teeth clench.

"Just say their names, McGee. We know who you accused."

"Louis did it, okay? Louis raped her and David held her down."

"She told you?"

"She didn't lie!" Tim said, angrily. "Okay? Melissa didn't lie about it. I gave her money to help pay for the abortion. I drove her out there so that she could get back without her parents knowing."

"You didn't tell the police that?"

"She made me promise." He looked at the file again. "Her parents hated me for it."

"They knew?"

"They found out about the abortion. They thought like the police did."

"What?" Tony asked.

"That I got her pregnant and that we decided to cover it up by her getting an abortion and then, she felt guilty and killed herself, but it wasn't true! We were friends. That's all." Tim looked at Tony and then at Gibbs. "I put the scene in the book...although I didn't give all the reasons. I kept that much out. Funny, no one thought to ask about the motive."

"What was the motive for Louis and David killing her, then?"

"She was going to tell her parents. Her father...he didn't take things like that well. He had a...a temper. A bad temper. She knew that there were two possibilities about what could come of it. Either he'd be furious at her for putting herself out there for people to do that to or else he'd be furious at the people who did it to her. He wouldn't have let it slide. He didn't let _anything_ slide. It was just a matter of who he would blame. Since he didn't know about the rape, he blamed me." That was another unpleasant memory he would be happy to forget.

"How did they know?"

"All it would take was one conversation that they heard. We talked about it a lot," Tim said. "Wondering what was the best option. What should we do. I was only sixteen. I didn't know what to do, what to tell her. Then, she was dead. They killed her."

"You have given a motive, McGee," Ziva said, "but how do you know that–?"

"Because they did it!" Tim said, almost shouting. He took a quick breath, trying to calm down. It had been way too many years for him to react like this now. "Sorry. They always had alibis. They were popular. They always had people who would vouch for them, no matter what. Always. But they _called_ me, they told me where she'd be. They didn't say that she'd be dead, but they told me to go there. And she was dead...hanging in the tree. I tried to get her down, but the knot wouldn't give and...and it was too high up for me to be able to. So I ran for help. And they got her down."

There was too much sympathy in the expressions on his team's faces. Tim didn't want pity. Not now.

He cleared his throat. "And then they got away with it. Just once...once, I got to give them a little bit back. Louis made a comment and I punched him right in the face. I'd have killed him if I could have. ...but David was there, like usual."

"We heard about that fight," Tony said seriously.

"You did? _That_ wasn't in the police report."

"We talked to some of your old teachers."

"Wow, you were thorough," Tim said. "So, now you know. There's nothing else; so can I go?"

"No, McGee!" Gibbs snapped. "The mugging?"

"Yeah. You already know. It was them again, but they'll have alibis, like they always do."

"Where do they live?" Gibbs asked.

"I have no idea," Tim said. "I hadn't seen them since high school, and I would have been happy to keep it that way."

"Then, how did they know to find you?"

Tim hedged.

"I had some...visitors at NCIS."

"Your old friends?"

"Yeah." He looked at Tony. "You were right. It was someone else unhappy with what I wrote in _Deep Six_. ...they called me McGeek, too, you know."

Tony didn't look happy at the comparison, and that gave Tim just a little bit of satisfaction. While Tony wasn't the bad guy, Tim would take any source of satisfaction he could get.

"So now you know. You can't do anything about it. I couldn't before. You can't now. The only place I could get justice was in a fictional novel and that's how it'll stay. The sooner you all realize that it's over, the sooner I can get back to my life now. I was happier letting all that stay in the past. I didn't tell you about it for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Because I hate every second of that experience. I _hate_ it. This isn't something that I just would rather not think about. I can still get as angry about it now as I did then. Melodrama aside, John acts how I acted, and it's easy to feel that. And I don't want to. So just let it go!"

Tim got carefully to his feet and walked out of the room, back to the spare bedroom. He sat down on the bed and then lay down and looked up at the ceiling.

"I hate this," he whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. It sounded almost tentative which was strange. No one in the house would _ever_ be tentative with the geek.

"Come in," he said, without sitting up.

"McGee?"

"What do you want, Ziva?" Tim asked.

"I wanted to see how you were feeling. You seemed very upset."

"I am. Congratulations."

There was a shifting of the bed as Ziva sat down beside him.

"I am sorry, McGee."

"What for? You have to do what Gibbs tells you to do and you didn't kill anyone...at least no one involved in this case."

"No, I am sorry for how I have been treating you. I have let this book become more important than you."

"It was never really about you, you know. Actually, in the beginning, I was going to change the names after I finished...but I didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't think it would matter. For one thing, you guys solved the case in the book. You're the heroes. For another, you shouldn't have ever even known about it."

"You would never have told us?"

Tim forced himself to sit up without groaning. He looked at Ziva and raised an eyebrow.

"Considering the reaction I've had...I think I was making the right decision."

Ziva nodded.

"I am sorry," she said again. "Can you forgive me for that?"

"Yeah," Tim said. "As long as you don't expect me to apologize for what I wrote in the book, because I won't. I'll never apologize for _Deep Six_."

"Even though it seems to be the cause of this problem?"

Tim shook his head vehemently.

"If I had to suffer for it, that's fine. As long as it's just me, it doesn't matter. It hurt. I'll admit it, and I wish it hadn't happened, but I survived it, and if it weren't for Gibbs being paranoid, I could be home living my life. I've got what I want out of my book. If anyone else had to suffer for it, then, I'd apologize and try to do something about it...but not if it's just me."

"You are not worth it?"

Tim smiled. "No. That's not it. I feel like the sacrifice is worth it. If I don't mind paying this price," he said, gesturing at his bruised face, "then, no one else should be able to tell me otherwise. Right?"

"Unless we feel that you are mistaken in simply taking what was done."

"I don't think you're going to have any choice."

"You make them sound invincible."

"No," Tim said, forcing a laugh. "Just unarrestable. They've never been caught before, not even when there were witnesses."

"If they are the ones who did this to you," Ziva said, "we will find them. We will not let them attack our teammate and get away with it. You are not in school anymore. You are not a teenager."

"Not most days," Tim said with a smile.

Ziva surprised him by putting her hand on his cheek, gently brushing her fingers over the bruise.

"...and you are not in this alone. We were angry about what we read, but we would never leave you alone in this."

Tim covered her hand and hoped that the sudden tightening of his throat didn't show. He had told Louis and David that he had people watching his back now, even if he hadn't before. But at the same time, with the coldness of their treatment after finding out about _Deep Six_, he'd actually wondered if they did.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"You are welcome."

Ziva nodded and stood up. She left Tim in the room, and he lay back down. He still didn't want to deal with this, but he felt better.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tibbs heard the shouting. He'd been trying to track down John because he kept getting into trouble. It was enough to drive anyone to drink, but Tibbs felt a strange affinity for the situation the troubled teen was in. He wanted to help him, but John was not making it easy. He'd been getting into fights. He'd been accusing the police of doing nothing. _

_In short, he was making himself singularly unsympathetic. _

_But this was different. It was not John's voice. In fact, it was an adult shouting, and the voice did sound somewhat familiar._

_Tibbs was about to move on, to look for the wayward teen again when he heard a whimper. A whimper. ...from someone young. He sprinted into the room and saw a surprising sight. _

_John was being violently shaken by Sandra's father, the man who had asked him to look into his daughter's death._

"_You didn't do anything to help her! Your hands are as bloody as the ones who killed her!"_

"_Mr. Owens!" Tibbs said._

_Mr. Owens shoved John to the floor and spun on Tibbs._

"_My daughter is dead!" he shouted. "He found her and left her there!"_

"_I couldn't get her down," John whimpered. "I tried."_

_Gone was the angry and upset accuser. Now, all that remained was a young man feeling a lot of pain._

_Mr. Owens turned back to John and started toward him. Tibbs reacted instantly and grabbed hold of the grieving parent, ready for anything._

_He got it._

_Mr. Owens took a swing at Tibbs whose military training perfectly ready to avoid it. He caught Mr. Owens' hand, grabbed hold of his wrist and spun his arm behind the man's back. He pushed him against the wall._

"_I'm sympathetic, Mr. Owens. Really I am, but you need to get a hold of yourself. What do you think you're doing?"_

"_He left her there!"_

"_Your daughter was up in a tree, Mr. Owens. It took us more than hour to get her down."_

_Tibbs held him against the wall for a few seconds, until the father relaxed enough that he could assume that he wouldn't attack John again. He let him go. Mr. Owens straightened and looked at John. _

"_I had better not see you at her funeral. As far as I'm concerned, you're just as responsible."_

_He strode away. _

_Tibbs looked back at John. He was still on the floor._

"_John?"_

"_I tried to get her down," John whispered. "I really did try."_

"_I'm sure you did."_

"_I tried to get her down."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked into Metro and got directed back to the detectives who were investigating the mugging. He hoped that there would be few problems with taking control of the case, given that they would have a lot on their plates, and this was just a mugging. Nothing exciting. There wouldn't be any real publicity about this.

"Agent Gibbs."

"Detective Warner?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"You're in charge of the mugging of Timothy McGee?"

"Yes. There's not much to go on, but we'll do our best."

"I'd like to take over it."

"Why?"

"Timothy McGee is an NCIS agent. He's on my team and we'd like to investigate what happened."

Suddenly, Detective Warner's expression changed, just a little.

"Agent?"

"Yes."

"He didn't mention that."

"I know." Gibbs wasn't sure what the change was for at first, but Warner revealed the reason.

"He's the agent who killed Detective Benedict last year."

"Maybe. There's nothing to show which bullet killed him."

Warner's eyebrow went up.

"That's your justification?"

"No," Gibbs said, wishing that he didn't need to get into this now. There were so many other things to deal with. "And it's not how Agent McGee feels, either. He still feels guilty about it."

"That why he didn't identify himself?"

"No."

"Then, why?"

"Because he thinks he knows who did it and he didn't want to tell anyone."

Warner's brow furrowed.

"Why keep information from the police? He should know better than that, shouldn't he?"

"Yeah, he should. They're his childhood bullies, and he thinks he knows what they're going to do. He'd rather just take this and assume that they won't try again."

"Bullies?"

"Yeah."

Warner didn't give anything away about how he might be thinking of Tim.

"It's a big step from teasing in high school to almost killing an adult."

"Yeah."

Warner nodded.

"Okay. Well, I won't fight you for it. Not much point. I've got enough to do. I'll get what little we've got sent over."

"Thanks."

Gibbs shook Warner's hand and started to leave.

"Agent Gibbs."

He turned back.

"Yeah?"

"If that was a personal attack, then, Agent McGee _isn't_ safe. I saw the injuries, and there was a real intent to kill. These people wanted him dead, and if it wasn't just because they were trying to rob him, then, I'd be surprised if they didn't try again."

Gibbs nodded.

"Thanks."

"Good luck."

Warner sat down at his desk and resumed working. Gibbs left the police station and headed back to NCIS with more than information. He'd taken the warning seriously and it squared with his own worry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Down with Abby," Tony said, smiling a little. "She's simultaneously fretting over him and lecturing him for not telling her that he got hurt. You know how she gets. He was sitting in the office when I left him down there."

Gibbs nodded and gestured for them to get started.

"Okay, here's what we've found," Tony said. "Louis Dietrich. He's a trader on Wall Street. Married to Jillian Miller, his high school sweetheart. Lives in Manhattan. No children. Apparently, he's very successful, based on the neighborhood where he lives. Swanky with a capital S."

"History?" Gibbs asked.

"Comes from money. Only child. His parents divorced when he was young and his father died ten years ago. He was the sole heir. Mom didn't get a penny. Apparently likes to live large. He has more than his share of speeding tickets, but still has his license."

Gibbs looked at Ziva.

"David Larson," Ziva said. "An exotic auto mechanic."

"Exotic?" Gibbs asked.

"Luxury cars. The ones that, if you screw up, you can't afford to replace because they cost so much," Tony said. "Takes special training from what I understand."

"Pay well?"

"Better than repairing a Honda, but I doubt he's driving a Ferrari."

"He lives in Alexandria. He is not married. He has no red flags," Ziva said. "Pays his taxes, pays his bills. Not even an unpaid parking ticket."

Tony looked around, as if to make sure Tim wasn't there.

"If it weren't for McGee saying it..."

"They would not look like the kind of men you would suspect of committing any crime beyond speeding, perhaps."

"And that's only Dietrich. Not Larson."

"Go check on Larson, see what you can find."

Tony and Ziva both nodded and left. After they were gone, Gibbs sat down and opened the file from Metro. There wasn't much there. The man who had witnessed the attack hadn't actually seen anyone. He'd been chasing after his dog. He could verify that Tim had said there were two men, but his attention had been on Tim because of the blood. He hadn't seen anything other than a man lying on the ground, clearly injured.

Tim had stated that he didn't see the men who had attacked him. His injuries were serious but not life-threatening. No fingerprints. No DNA. No blood that hadn't been Tim's. He had been taken completely by surprise and had been unable to do any damage. Two on one. It sounded like the work of bullies. Why risk an even fight when you could stack the deck?

And Tim was just taking it like he had as a teenager. He was using different words to explain his reasons, but it was the same situation. Take it and hope it's the last time because you just didn't want the fight. The bullies had beaten him down again. While he wasn't yet sure about the murder charge Tim was lofting at them, Gibbs believed him when he said that it was his old bullies who had assaulted him. ...and with the assault, it gave more credence to the murder accusation.

...and if Detective Warner was right, Tim wasn't safe, no matter how much he wanted to believe that it was over.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I've told you a hundred times, Louis, when he drives anywhere, it'll make the news. I'm not going to drive by his place over and over just to make sure people notice that there's someone watching him."

"_What if they find it?"_

"How will they? It's not like you cut the brake lines...at least you _better_ not have cut the brake lines," David said. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"_I didn't cut the brake lines. I did exactly what you told me to do."_

"Then, stop worrying. He got hurt. He's not going to be driving right away. Once he drives, the results will _definitely_ make the news."

"_They'd better."_

David hung up, rolling his eyes. He couldn't wait for this to be over. He was so sick of Louis and his demanding ego. The sooner Tim tried to drive his car, the better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"What do you expect?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know. His profile is normal, but what McGee says he did..."

"Yes. I do wonder what kind of man he will be."

They got out of the car and walked into the repair shop. The smell was familiar, but the cars were not the kind they normally saw. There was a Maserati, a Lamborghini and a Porsche all in a row. Tony walked over to the Maserati and whistled appreciatively.

"Wow. This one car costs more than I make in a year."

"Me, too. Could you stay back, please?"

Tony looked over and saw the man they were looking for. He was average height, unassuming air. Nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. Tony raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry, but customers really aren't supposed to be back here."

Tony smiled.

"We're not customers."

"Who are you, then?"

"David Larson?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah. Who are you?" David asked again. His expression was quizzical.

"Officer David. This is Agent DiNozzo. We are with NCIS."

"NCIS? Why are Navy cops coming here? I don't get too many sailors as clients."

Tony looked at the cars again.

"Not too many driving luxury vehicles?"

"No, not many that _I_ know of. So...what can I do for you?"

"We just have a couple of questions to ask you. It shouldn't take long," Tony said.

David looked like a normal guy. His tone was normal.

"Okay. What is it?"

Tony held out a picture of Tim.

"You recognize this man?"

Then, there it was, just for a second. An expression that wasn't considering, wasn't trying to pull out a memory. It was an expression showing that he knew exactly who was in the picture and he was carefully evaluating how much he should tell.

"Yeah, that's Tim McGee. We went to high school at the same time."

"He was attacked, two nights ago," Ziva said.

"That's too bad. He all right?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said carelessly. "I'm guessing that you're not asking me about him just for fun."

"Could you tell us what you were doing two nights ago?" Ziva asked. "Between seven and ten?"

David laughed incredulously. "What, is he accusing _me_? Come on! This is extreme even for him."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that back in high school I bullied him. Me and Louis."

"Louis?" Tony asked.

"Dietrich. We made Tim's life pretty miserable in high school. I'll admit it."

"Why?" Ziva asked.

"Because we were mean little punks in high school," David said. "Tim was weird, even for a nerd. So he stuck out and we were pretty merciless. Besides, he was really smart and I was a little jealous of how easy things were for him. Louis didn't care about that stuff. He just liked having power over other people."

"And now?"

"Now? I've barely given him a thought since we left. I certainly haven't sought him out."

"Not even last week?" Ziva asked.

Not a trace of discomfort at being contradicted. He just shrugged.

"That was Louis' idea, not mine."

"How did you know where he worked?"

"Again. Louis, not me. As far as I'm concerned, it all ended after high school was over. Tim accused us of killing a girl that committed suicide."

"And?"

David laughed. "And we didn't. She was friends with him, and he lost it when she died. Honestly, though, he was weird before then."

"How?"

"Like...in P.E. No one flunks P.E. if they come to class. How could you, really? But Tim...he was obsessed with being perfect at everything. I mean _obsessed_. Coach Schwab liked him for some reason, maybe because it was obvious that Tim was trying, even though he _sucked_ at athletics. Tim had a meltdown in class because he thought he was going to fail. Who cries about P.E.? ...well, he did. And when Melissa died, he started picking fights. I had to hold him back once when he tried to beat up Louis. He really might have done it, too."

It was interesting hearing about the same events from another perspective. Everything he said seemed so logical, made him seem normal and Tim seem strange, but there was that moment when they had asked him the first question. It made them more skeptical...and yet...

"What are you saying?" Ziva asked.

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that I liked Tim. I'm not going to pretend that I want his forgiveness. I was stupid in high school, and I admit it. But there comes a time when you just have to move on. If Tim is pointing the finger at me, then, he's not moving on."

"So...where were you two nights ago?" Tony asked.

"What time did you say?"

"Between seven and ten."

"Louis comes down to DC every so often for business. When he does, he'll usually stop by to visit. He'll take me out to dinner. He has to pay because he's not satisfied with the places I go. He has to have the best and be seen having the best."

"Where did you go?"

"Little place called Emilio's. Italian. Quite good, but too expensive for me. I make all right here, but I'm not paying a hundred bucks for one meal. Not worth it."

"You have anyone who can verify your presence?"

"Louis could, but I'm guessing you'd want more than that. Emilio could probably do that. He served us himself. Louis called Jillian while we were eating, just a quick call. Is there anything else? Because I do have work to do. My clients aren't generally the patient types."

"One more question," Ziva said.

"Yeah?"

"In your opinion, could your friend Louis have done this himself?"

David laughed again. "Right. The man couldn't tie his own shoes if he wasn't told what to do. He's not _really_ stupid, but he wants everything now and he doesn't want to plan anything in advance. If he doesn't get what he wants, he makes everyone miserable until he does, but he doesn't have the intelligence to make a real plan."

"Thanks for your time," Tony said. He handed David a card. "If you think of anything that might be helpful..."

"Yeah, sure, I'll call." David took the card and slipped it into his pocket. "You ever get an import, we're the best."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tony said with a smile.

Tony and Ziva left the shop together and got in the car.

"How much was true?" Ziva asked.

"Probably most of it, but that has got to be the most calculating person I've ever seen. Planning out every single word, every piece of information he gave us. It was all planned so that it would make Tim's accusation sound impossible. Why would he work here when he's smart enough for more?"

"Some people do not want _more_," Ziva said. "It is about quality, not quantity. ...and he has quality."

"How do you figure?"

"He has a friend who takes him to expensive restaurants at no cost to him. His clothing was of high quality. The shop is high end. There is nothing he has left to chance and he has what he wants."

"I guess. He's _almost_ likeable," Tony said.

Ziva smiled. "Almost?"

"Yeah...there's just something about him that rubs me the wrong way."

"It could not just be that he and Dietrich attacked McGee?"

"You think they did?"

"Yes. More now than I did."

"Why?"

"Because he was too confident and he had answers for everything we asked, even when there should have been a reason to pause. He was too helpful, and...I do not like how cold he is."

"Well, that's not going to give us evidence to arrest him."

"I know. It is a start, not an end."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tibbs looked up at the tree where Sandra had been hanging. Then, he looked around the clearing. There had to be something that revealed what had really happened to the poor girl, something that would give them evidence, one way or the other. He had to admit that there was little he had found so far. There was little to go on besides John's insistence. And Tibbs couldn't give up on believing the troubled teen. He couldn't give up on someone who needed his help. He'd never abandon that boy._

_And yet..._

_Some were suggesting that he was wasting time by continuing an investigation that was going nowhere. The local cops were ready to declare it a suicide. ...which had only made John cry to be heard all the louder. Was there something wrong with John? Possibly. But that didn't make him wrong._

_A twig snapped and Tibbs spun around, instantly on the alert, instantly ready to confront an intruder on his solitude._

"_Whoa! Sorry. I didn't know anyone would be here."_

_Colin Bete stood there, his eyes wide open and his hands in the air. One of the teens John had accused of killing Sandra._

"_This is a crime scene," Tibbs said. "You shouldn't be here."_

"_It's the easiest path from school."_

_Colin was an interesting person. Where his friend Lawrence was abrasive and overbearing, Colin was smooth and cold. _

"_You'd better take the long way until the case is done."_

"_I can do that...but what more is there here? It's a path through the trees."_

_Tibbs raised an eyebrow._

"_Take the long way around," he said sternly._

_Colin just nodded as if it didn't bother him at all. He walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, Tibbs looked around the area again. _

_Why had Colin shown up right now? What reason could there be?_

_Tibbs wasn't going to accept that as a coincidence. There was something going on here. Something he had to figure out. Something he would figure out no matter what it took. There was something to find._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim wished he was home in his bed. He was still aching. He was tired and he _hated_ that all these things from his past were coming up again. Abby had finally let him sit in her office after berating him and hugging him by turns. She had even been willing to turn down her music in respect for his headache.

But the desk in her office wasn't exactly the most comfortable location to be sitting.

The door opened and Abby walked over to him and sat down. She stared at him silently.

"What?" Tim asked.

"Why did you do this, Tim?"

"Do what? Sit in your office?" Tim asked. "I ache. That's why."

Abby raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"What do you mean, then?" Tim asked.

"You never told anyone about this."

No need to ask what _this_ was.

"No, I didn't."

"But it's such a big part of you, Tim!"

"No, it isn't," Tim said. "It was one event. It's not..."

"You wrote your book about it."

"Yeah, I did."

"Tim! This is a huge part of who you are!"

"And it's something I'd rather forget, Abby. I didn't tell anyone about it because I didn't want it to be a topic of conversation."

"But you wrote about it!"

"When I could make things right," Tim said. "I could fix everything that had gone wrong. I could make it the way it should have been...but, Abby, that's fiction. The book is fiction. No matter how much you guys refused to believe that. It's fiction. It's not real. I can't make it right. Nothing can. Nothing is going to make that right. It's been too many years and there was never any evidence to begin with."

Abby hugged him.

"There's always hope, Tim."

"No, Abby. I don't want to hope, not for that. After everything that happened back then, I don't want to start thinking about it again."

Abby let him go.

"What about what happened to you?"

"You mean my friends refusing to believe what should have been obvious or getting beat up?" Tim asked. He knew that he was being overly grumpy, but he didn't care. He was tired and aching, and he hated that he was at NCIS when he could be at home, in bed.

Abby looked at him for a long moment. Then, without answering, she stood and walked over to where she stored her futon. She unrolled it and then walked out of the office. Tim watched her. He figured she was setting it up for him, but with Abby, you never could tell for sure. It was better not to make assumptions.

Abby walked back into the office with Bert and a blanket in her arms.

"Lie down on the futon, Tim," she said, pointing at it.

Reluctantly, Tim made the effort to get up, grunting as he did so. Then, he grunted again as he lowered himself to the floor. As he lay down, Abby slipped Bert under his head...which caused the hippo to make his trademark sound. Then, she spread the blanket over top of him, knelt down, and kissed his cheek.

"Sleep, Tim. Don't worry about a thing. We're on the right page now. Just relax."

"Abby, I–" He should apologize for taking out his misery on her.

She shushed him.

"Go to sleep, Tim. I think you need it."

"Abbs..."

"No. Sleep."

Tim sighed and closed his eyes. He was tired and achy, and in spite of feeling kind of bad about snapping at Abby, he did fall asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby kept the music off while Tim was sleeping, but she didn't like what had happened to him, not when he was young and not now. As she worked, she couldn't help wondering what would happen. They were investigating but Tim was so sure that nothing would come of it.

The doors opened.

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked.

"Shh!" Abby said. "Tim's asleep!"

"Where?"

"On my futon in the office. Quiet!"

"Sorry," Tony said, lowering his voice.

"What did you find?" Abby asked.

"Nothing much," Ziva said. "He has an alibi."

"But what about what Tim said?"

"He contradicts it."

"But there's something going on with him," Tony said.

"What about the other one?"

"He's in New York. We haven't talked to him yet."

The doors to Abby's office opened, but they didn't notice.

"There is little to go on, here," Ziva said.

"That's what I keep telling you."

Abby looked back.

"Tim! You were asleep!"

"Now, I'm awake," Tim said. "You won't find anything. There's nothing to find. If you'd just let it go..."

"And let the bullies get away with it? No way!" Abby said.

"That's what they do best. That's what they've done since high school. I've accepted it. I wish you would."

Tim limped by them and left the lab.

"Man, he's grumpy," Tony said.

"I feel like we're letting him down, somehow," Abby confessed. "The characters in his book solved it. Why can't we?"

"Because we are real people," Ziva said. "And this is real life, not a story."

"But he's telling the truth! I know he is!"

"But we cannot just go by what he says."

"She's right, Abbs," Tony said. "There's just no evidence right now."

"No one is perfect. They must have messed up somewhere."

"Well, if they did, we can't see it right now."

"Then, we'll just have to keep looking!"

"Until?" Ziva asked.

"Until we find what we've missed."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim got to his desk and sat down. His head felt like it was made of lead and he was tired of all this stuff going on. He just wanted it to be over and done with...because he felt that it had been over before it had begun.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"McGee, what are you doing up here?"

Tim jumped a little and looked at Gibbs.

"Sitting. Boss, can't I just go home? You aren't going to find anything. There's nothing to find. Not even you guys can conjure up evidence out of nothing."

"Why are you assuming that we'll fail?"

"Because there's no evidence! Boss, I'm not a probie anymore, even if Tony keeps on calling me that. I know how investigations work. I know when there's no evidence. I know when the witness isn't reliable. _I'm_ the witness! I'm _not_ reliable! I had a concussion. It was dark. I didn't see anyone. I just heard them. ...and I have an irrational hatred of Louis and David, going back to another crime I accused them of without evidence to back me up. Even if you _could_ arrest them just on my say-so, a first-year law student could get them off! I know you don't have any physical evidence. Tony and Ziva even said that David has an alibi, not that I'm surprised." Tim sighed. "I'm just so sick of this, and I don't want to keep it up."

"So you'll let the bullies win again, just like always?"

"Yes," Tim said. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. In fact, I'm not supposed to be at work yet, anyway. My doctor said I should rest for a few days. I'm supposed to be home, in bed." He levered himself to his feet and headed for the elevator. He got on and turned around to see Gibbs right behind him. The elevator doors closed...

...and then, the elevator jolted to a stop.

"What's this really about, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You want them to get caught."

"Sure, but it doesn't matter what I want."

"What's this about?"

"Nothing, Boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I can't leave until I answer you?"

Gibbs said nothing. Tim sighed.

"You don't fight the bullies."

"Why not?"

"Because they _always_ win. The deck is stacked in their favor. They've paid off the dealer. _You _can't win. But if you refuse to engage with them, then, _they _don't win, either. They can't because there's no fight. I know I don't have a chance against them. If I don't go after them, then they don't get the chance to gloat. They haven't won because there's nothing for them to win against."

Gibbs was silent, but Tim had said what he had to say. He refused to say more.

"Is that really what you tell yourself? Is that what you told yourself when you were a teenager, too? Did it make you feel better?"

Tim looked down.

"You never backed down when your sister was in trouble. You stood right here and refused to stand back when I confronted you about your actions. You took on Director Shephard, even gave up your job, rather than give in. Why not fight now?"

"Sarah's my sister. I couldn't abandon her."

"Then, why abandon yourself?"

"I'm not. I'm cutting my losses."

"No. You're refusing to fight. You're letting them walk all over you. Do you not think you're worth fighting for?"

"Boss, you're making more of this than you should. I'm being realistic. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if that was really the reason. You're not being realistic. You're being defeated."

Tim looked down at his feet.

"Better that I defeat myself than let them do it again," he said softly. "But you've made it so that they think I'm fighting back. What you're doing is making me lose, giving them another chance to laugh. They know that I accused them...and they know that they've won...again. I'm sick of them winning."

There was a long silence. Tim looked up.

"I don't want to lose again, Boss," he said.

Gibbs was silently evaluating. Tim looked down again. He _really_ wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep. He was so tired and achy.

"Boss, I want to go home, get into bed and sleep. Please?"

The silence lingered and when Tim looked up, he saw a different expression on Gibbs' face, one he couldn't figure out.

"All right, McGee, here's the deal."

"Deal?"

"We'll take another couple of days on this, during that time, you're accepting protection until I'm satisfied that we're not making any progress and that there's no danger. If that's the case, and nothing has happened to you, then, I'll stop."

"You will?"

"If that's what you want, but not before we've checked out what we can. Clear?"

"Yeah."

Tim was more surprised than clear, but he agreed anyway.

"For now, go to the conference room and sleep on the couch."

"So...no going home?"

"Not yet."

"Okay."

Gibbs turned on the elevator and sent it up a level. Tim was reluctant, but he got off and walked to the conference room. Inside, he lay down on the couch, feeling relief from having to be upright and happy to close his eyes and sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs watched Tim fall asleep and then, with another idea in his mind, he went back to the elevator, stopped briefly at his desk to make a call, and then, went down to Autopsy.

"Hey, Duck, you got a minute?"

Ducky looked up from a file he'd been examining. "Of course, Jethro. Mr. Palmer is on a rotation at the hospital, and my only current task is to analyze the autopsy of that unfortunate girl from Timothy's past. What can I help you with?"

"I'd like you to analyze someone living."

"The young men Timothy accused? They do present an interesting study. For instance, the role of the young man who was, by his own admission, the planner. That kind of relationship with a bully is almost a kind of...mutualism. He got protection from the bully and the bully received help in carrying out his attacks. It's really..."

"No, not them," Gibbs interrupted.

"Who, then?"

"McGee."

"You have his psych evaluation," Ducky said. "That was done by professionals, Jethro. I highly doubt I could add anything more."

"This stuff isn't in his psych evaluation. I want to show you something."

"Of course."

Gibbs led Ducky to the computer and then called again.

"Put it on Dr. Mallard's computer, please."

He hung up.

"What are you showing me, Jethro?"

"Just watch. Then, I have some questions."

"Very well."

"It's an interrogation McGee did last year."

Ducky nodded and when the video came up, he leaned forward. Gibbs watched with the same interest he'd felt the first time.

"This is fairly typical, Jethro, except that this youngster clearly needs to be taken down a peg or ten."

"Watch."

"Very well."

Tim was obviously frustrated with the attitude of the teenager. Then, suddenly, it was all smooth.

"_Tim and Dan, they must be pretty scared of you, huh?"_

"_What makes you say that?"_

"_Come on. They're obviously geeks. We used to shove them into lockers. Pull their gym shorts off in class. Drop their books down the toilet. It was even better if they start crying, right?"_

"_Yeah...or wet their pants."_

Tim laughed.

"_Yeah, that, too."_

"Considering Timothy's history, I'm surprised that he's taking this tack."

"Wait," Gibbs said. "Watch."

The interrogation continued, and Gibbs could see Tim ready to reel the kid in.

"_You know, I really haven't thought about it too much,"_ Jason said.

"_Well, I have. You know why?"_ And suddenly, Tim wasn't the buddy of the bully. He was in his face._ "Because I was one of those kids. And I've been looking forward to this day my entire life, dirtbag."_

Ducky blinked in surprise but made no comment this time.

"_I didn't do anything!"_ Jason exclaimed, now, on the defensive, perhaps for the first time in his life.

"_I've got you for aiding and abetting a kidnapping, interfering in a federal investigation, and selling stolen property. Do you know what that means?"_ He walked behind the teen._ "That means they can try you as an adult... _Geck_. And when you're in prison, every night when you're crying _yourself _to sleep, I want you to think of me, tough guy."_ He flicked Jason's neck, just below his ear and Jason flinched._ "We're done here. See you in court."_

Tim started to stride to the door, his face away from the camera. As soon as Jason started cooperating, Gibbs stopped the video.

Ducky looked at the blank screen. He said nothing.

"Well, Ducky?"

Ducky looked at him.

"You said you had questions for me."

"First, how would you describe McGee there?"

"I remember that case. We were all called in and Timothy was late. He was fumbling a bit more than usual."

"In that interrogation."

"Controlled," Ducky said. "Very carefully controlled. Seeing his reaction at the end makes the careful control even more obvious at the beginning. He wants to shout. I would daresay that, as the cockiness continued, he possibly even wanted to get violent, but he didn't. He was angry, Jethro. Very angry. You can see it in the movement as he walks around the boy. And that little flick at the end just before he started to leave. It was the most violence he could safely let out. I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to do more than flick that arrogant young man's ear. And I wouldn't blame him. Did he tell you about how he got the information he needed?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No. I looked at this later."

"Did you ever talk to him about it?"

"No."

Ducky nodded. "Any other questions?"

"Yeah. Just a few weeks ago, he stood up to the director when he was trying to protect his sister. He stood up to me. There, he confronted a bully to get the information he needed. All he wants to do now is let it go. Why? It's not because he can't fight back when it's necessary."

"For others, Jethro," Ducky said. "What you're not considering is that he's fighting back for other people, not for himself."

"You think he doesn't feel like he's worth it?"

"Not exactly. What I think is that Timothy doesn't want the fight at _all_. He doesn't want to fight back, but he can't stand injustice and so, when the injustice is affecting someone else, he _will_ fight back against the bullies he fears to help those in need, but he doesn't want to fight back just for himself. If he thinks he can avoid the fight by giving in, then, he will. It's _easier_."

"I've seen him fight back against a lot of things, Duck. He doesn't take the easy way out."

Ducky nodded. "I agree, but the fight against bullies, Jethro. That's a fight he's had for much of his life. I don't blame him for wanting to avoid yet another battle, particularly when he always seems to lose. Whether he's correct or not about the death of his friend, it's the biggest battle he lost, and he lost it so thoroughly that it still bothers him to this day."

"He's never shown it."

"I'm sure he hasn't, and that is probably the biggest reason he didn't want anyone to know about this most recent attack."

"Why?"

Ducky smiled. "Jethro, most of us have either assumed or guessed that Timothy was bullied to some degree. We followed the stereotype and, unfortunately, we were correct, but we have never _known_ it for sure. What agent would want to admit that, in his youth, he was beat upon, whether physically or mentally? Why would he want to let you all know that, yes, he did have bullies when he was younger, and they can still beat him now when he's an adult? It's humiliating. I would not be surprised if Timothy is _ashamed_ by what happened."

"That he could be taken down by two people?"

"Yes."

"Any one of us could be."

"But he's not been taken down by two random strangers. He's been taken down by his bullies. That makes it a source of shame. It doesn't matter that it's not logical. He wants to end the case because he's tired of fighting and he doesn't want you to see him beaten again."

"So...should we give in to that?"

Ducky shrugged. "Is there reason to pursue it? Abigail told me earlier that she's not sure that there's any evidence...as Timothy himself has claimed."

"There's not much," Gibbs admitted. "Maybe nothing."

"Then, if there's nothing, and Timothy is so determined to let it go, perhaps it would be best to let him. ...so long as you feel he's not in danger."

"I don't know if he is. _He_ doesn't think he is."

"I would like to see him triumph over something that clearly bothers him, but if there's nothing to go on, then, I don't want to see him feeling lost again."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

David sat, looking at the Porsche in its stall. Tim had never brought his car here, although it made sense that he wouldn't. For one thing, a Porsche wasn't going to need a lot of maintenance if it was cared for, and it was clear that Tim was proud of it. When they'd watched him get home in the evening and leave in the morning, he had a special look for the car. It was a symbol for him.

David smiled. Even if he thought that it was unnecessary to go any further than they had, he had to admit that there was a kind satisfaction in using something Tim was so happy about to tear him down yet again.

Louis was foaming at the mouth with the visit of the NCIS agents when David had called him. It was ridiculous because they clearly had no real evidence. They were simply probing, trying to find some weakness, and David could see it. He just allowed them to probe and admitted to the stuff he needed to acknowledge. Louis would have been angry and probably let his big mouth give something away. He almost had back when Melissa had died. David had managed to hold him back, but he would have let everyone know there was something more going on.

"David, you planning on using your ESP to fix the car?"

David chuckled and looked over at Mason, one of the other mechanics.

"Nope. Just admiring."

"A Porsche isn't the best we get. It's nice, but I prefer the Jaguars."

"They're nice, too. I'm not picky."

"Yeah. You can't afford any of them."

David smiled humorlessly. "Maybe not, but if I wasn't here, all those rich people wouldn't be driving them, either. They'd break them and have no one to fix them. They couldn't get their hands dirty."

"You're such a cynic."

"I can schmooze when I need to."

"I know," Mason said. "You're smooth as silk when you want to be, when the customers are here, but that's not really you. You look down on all of them when they're not around."

"Don't you?"

"Nope. I make a good living doing this. I like cars, and I like tinkering with them. They tip well and they appreciate good work. I like where I am."

"So do I."

"Only because it gives you a feeling of power. I've watched you. You like being able to talk over the rich people's heads, telling them exactly what you need to do, knowing they don't understand it. The only reason you get away with it is because you're not lying to them."

"Hey! Larson! That Porsche needs to go out tomorrow," the owner yelled.

"We're on schedule. It'll be done," David said.

"It had better be."

"I've never been late on a car before."

"Well, don't start now."

"Duty calls," Mason said and walked over to the Maserati.

David looked at the Porsche one more time.

"Always does," he said softly. "Doesn't mean you always have to answer."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Agent Tibbs, do you believe me?" John asked._

"_Can you give me a reason why I should? You're not acting like someone I should believe, John," Tibbs said, even as he hated to say it._

"_Do you believe me? I need to know."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because no one believes me, and Sandy deserves to be remembered right. She didn't kill herself! Do you believe me?"_

_That was always the question._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

For the next two days, the MCRT tried to find something to support Tim's story both in the present and the past, but there was nothing. No fingerprints, no witnesses besides Tim, no holes in the stories they had told. Tony and Ziva had checked with Emilio at the restaurant and he had upheld David's alibi. They had even checked Louis Dietrich's phone records and there was a call that night at the time they had said. Basically, if it _was_ Louis and David, they had managed to cover their tracks completely, and while Gibbs didn't believe there was any such thing as a perfect crime, he had to admit that he wasn't seeing the weakness as yet.

There had been no sign of anyone watching Tim, stalking him. They'd gone over Tim's apartment, to make sure no one had been in there. They'd even checked his car. The brake lines, the gas line, the tires. All were in perfect working order. Tim took very good care of his car. There was no sign of any explosives.

Basically, it was looking like Tim had been right. If he had been deliberately targeted, there was no evidence to support it and no one was coming after him. By the end of the week, Gibbs had to give in. They set the case on the backburner and he let Tim go home and sleep in his own bed. He would be coming in to work the next morning and had already promised to check in if he was going to be late.

Tim had insisted that it was over and he seemed to be right, but it didn't feel right. Gibbs didn't like it when things didn't feel right. His gut was telling him that the Metro detective had been right. This _wasn't_ over. He just didn't know what would happen, and if he were honest with himself, he didn't know what to do to help it along. He didn't know how much of Tim's certainty was due to his desire to avoid anything to do with his bullies and how much was because Tim just _knew_ his bullies.

So, reluctantly, Gibbs allowed Tim to go home, although he didn't like it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tibbs wondered how much of this was his desperate desire to find something and how much was because there was something to find. Regardless, he was staked out at the crime scene, hoping for something that would prove John's belief._

_He hated that he had to wait. _

_All he could see was John's eyes, begging him to find something, to prove what he thought he knew. He would never forgive himself if he left before finishing the case. He had Tommy and Lisa spinning their wheels and McGregor was trying to find something in his searches that would help._

_This was the key. This place was the key. He was sure of it._

_He just had to wait and whatever they did...if anything...he'd catch it._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up...in his own bed. He was really happy about that. Maybe this could be the start of getting things back to normal. In a week or so, he'd be feeling less achy. The bruises wouldn't be so obvious. Tony would go back to teasing him for being a geek instead of looking at him worriedly. They would stop asking him about his history. He would even take more irritation about his book. ...or maybe not. He did appreciate that they had stopped that.

As he slowly got ready to return to work, he was determined not to think about Louis and David. He could feel the possibility of a return to the obsession of his teenage years, and he didn't want that. He wanted to avoid going back to that. He would just ignore the last week and pretend it had never happened.

He ate breakfast, gathered his stuff and headed out to his car, still feeling the little boost he always got at seeing it. His car was a symbol of the unexpected success he'd had. It made him smile.

He got into the car and headed to work. He could drive straight through DC to get to the Yard, but he decided that he'd go around, take the Beltway. It wouldn't get him there fast, necessarily, but he really wanted to enjoy the freedom he had now. He had felt a bit confined when he had to be protected all the time. He was leaving early.

He had the time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs still had that unfinished feeling about what had happened to Tim. He would feel better seeing Tim come in to work without any problem.

His phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"_Hey...uh...Boss?"_

It was Tim, and that was a shaky voice.

"What is it, McGee?" he asked.

"_I'm...not going to be on time to work...if I make it...at all..."_

"Why?"

"_Because...I can't stop my car."_

No question. Tim was scared.

"What do you mean you can't stop it?"

"_I mean that I can't get it to stop. I push on the brakes and nothing happens. I tried to turn off the cruise control. That doesn't work. The key won't turn. Boss, I can't stop the car, and...and I'm going pretty fast."_

"Define pretty fast."

"_Sixty. Sixty miles an hour. Boss...if you want..."_

"What?"

"_You can say it serves me right. You can blame me for this. I..."_

Gibbs could hear the panic in Tim's voice. He needed to stop the panic before it made Tim make mistakes he wouldn't otherwise make.

"Stop, McGee."

"_Right. Okay."_

"You know how to drive. You know how to drive at that speed. Don't panic."

He heard an audible swallow.

"_Right. What do I do, Boss? I don't know what to do. What if there's a traffic jam or something? I don't want to get anyone killed. There's...traffic..."_

The elevator dinged and Tony got off.

"Okay." He snapped his fingers at Tony. "Tony will call Metro. Where are you?"

"_On the Beltway. I'm...heading west right now. Boss..."_

"Hang on."

"What's going on?" Tony asked.

"Something's wrong with McGee's car. He can't stop it."

"Sabotage?"

"Don't know. He thinks so."

"We _checked_ his car!"

"Not good enough. Get Metro. We need them to clear the road and keep McGee from getting in an accident. He said his speed is sixty."

"And he can't stop?"

"Nope."

Tony nodded and pulled out his phone.

"McGee," Gibbs said.

"_Still here...or...still driving. I'm not where I was."_

"We're getting Metro out to you. Whatever you do, stay on the phone. We need to be able to track you until the cops catch up."

"_Right. You know...it's not really safe to drive and talk on the phone,"_ Tim said with a shaky laugh. _"Boss...I'm really nervous."_

"You're going to be fine."

"_I hope so...but..."_

"No. You're going to be fine. Don't think of any other possibility."

Even while he said it, he was worried. If Tim couldn't turn off his car, how was he going to be stopped? Until he ran out of gas, he wouldn't be stopping at all, unless he got in an accident.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim thought he might be staring at his death. He was waiting for a chance to get off the Beltway and head away from DC, away from the more populated areas in the hopes of avoiding a collision, but he had to stay on a road that had at least four lanes because he needed to be able to get around people...as he had been, weaving in and out of traffic, praying that there wouldn't be any traffic jam that would make it impossible to weave. He had already decided that, if it came down to it, he would run the car off the road himself rather than crash into another person.

"_McGee, we've got your location,"_ Gibbs said. _"Metro is on its way."_

"I'm not really in the Metro anymore, Boss," Tim said, barely suppressing a panicked laugh. "I just got onto 270."

"_With what's going on, it's easier to get one group rather than try to figure out where you'll be going next. They know what's going on."_

Suddenly, Tim saw police lights behind him.

"I see at least one police car, Boss."

"_Good. Now, McGee, tell me how much gas you've got."_

"I don't know. The display isn't working but I haven't filled up for a week or so...maybe I had...uh...half a tank. I get about 26 miles to the gallon for highway driving...which is what I'm doing right now."

Tim was only barely keeping a handle on his panic. He was terrified. This had been the last thing on his mind when he had started driving. Everything had been normal until he'd tried to slow down...and nothing had happened.

"_McGee, take a deep breath."_

Tim did as he was told, but it didn't help much.

"Boss...what are they going to do?"

"_We're going to figure it out."_

Then, Tim saw a very bad sign ahead.

"Brake lights," he said loudly.

The cop car seemed to see the same thing and sped up with its siren going as it passed Tim and stayed right in front of him. The cars ahead began to move over and slow down. Tim wondered if the other drivers thought he was just being a jerk by tailing a cop car, but that didn't really matter right now. He just had to keep driving and praying that no one would try to cut him off. He swerved into the shoulder on the left side of the freeway once and then got through the slowdown.

After they got through the area of slowed traffic, Tim looked in his rearview mirror and saw another police car behind him, lights on. At least people should be getting out of the way. Tim really didn't want to get into an accident.

"Maybe they could just shoot out the gas tank or something, Boss," Tim said.

"_That could blow up the car, McGee."_

"Oh...right. I don't know if I can stand the stress of driving until I run out of gas, Boss! If I'm right about how much gas I have...that's 200 miles I could go before I run out! That would get me up to Hagerstown or farther!"

"_We'll figure something out."_

"Shoot out the tires?"

"_You'd probably spin out and hit someone."_

"Okay. I could drive it into a large body of water?"

"_And drown?"_

Tim laughed shakily.

"I can't think of any along this road anyway. I'm just tossing out ideas, Boss. ...while I've got the time."

"_Stay calm."_

"Boss..."

"_Don't even say it. Don't even _think_ it, McGee. You're not assuming that this is going to kill you. There is a limited amount of time the car will work. You will stop eventually."_

"But that's only true until I hit someone and kill them! I'm not going to do that!"

"_Good. Don't."_

The police car ahead of him tapped his brakes a few times, getting Tim's attention. Tim looked ahead.

Traffic jam. His heart jumped into his throat. The car signaled to the left and eased into the emergency lane on the left shoulder. Tim followed. Cars were shifting over as they could, but it was slow going.

"Traffic jam," he said softly.

"_Just stay calm, McGee."_

"Yeah. Right."

All the cars were moving over. The police car in front was honking his horn with his siren on and his lights flashing...and _still_ some people were taking their own sweet time. Tim wanted to shout at them that he could kill them if they didn't get out of the way. They were forced to swerve onto the shoulder again. This time, Tim almost gave in to his panic.

There were a few choice words that came from his mouth.

Then, they were through the jam and Tim was shaking.

"_Tim?"_

"Still here, Boss," Tim said.

"_Yeah, I heard."_

"I can't keep this up, Boss. I really can't. I'm two seconds away from freaking out."

"_You can do it."_

Then, Gibbs was talking in a low voice to someone else. Tim had never felt _less_ like he could do something. Every car was driving his stress level up higher with no easing. Tim felt like his head (or his heart) was about to explode.

"I don't know if I can."

No response.

"Boss? Boss?"

The idea of dealing with this all on his own, even if Gibbs couldn't do anything other than tell him to pull himself together, was even more terrifying.

"_McGee, the police need to talk to you. They've come up with an idea to stop your car before you run out of road."_

Tim forced himself to laugh, but it sounded fake even to himself.

"_You need to hang up and they'll call you. Okay?"_

"Um...okay."

"_We're on our way up to you, McGee. You'll be fine."_

"Right...right."

"_Hang up."_

"Okay." Tim hung up his phone and then jumped when it rang a few seconds later.

"_Agent McGee?"_

"Yes."

"_This is Detective Warner."_

"From...from Metro?"

"_Exactly."_

"I thought it...would be a...highway patrolman or something."

"_I have a hard time letting go of cases, and I live in this area. When I heard about it, I headed out."_

"Oh." Tim didn't know what else to say. He'd barely spoken to the detective, to have him acting like he was concerned with Tim's well-being...it was a surprise.

"_Now, in about ten minutes...your speed is still about sixty, right?"_

"Yeah."

"_Good. In about ten minutes, the car ahead of you will pull to the side and you'll see a van. Much larger than you, but not too high off the ground. You're going to run into it."_

"What?"

"_We're going to stop your car."_

"It's not just my brakes!" Tim said. "It's more than that!"

"_I'm aware of that. We're going to break your car, basically. If your engine isn't working, then, your car can't keep moving."_

"But it's almost new!" Tim said and then flushed. "Nevermind, forget I said that. That was really stupid. Like my car is more important than keeping me from killing someone."

"_We've cleared the road ahead of you. I'm worried about keeping _you_ alive, Agent McGee."_

Tim laughed a little.

"_Just watch for the van."_

"Right."

There were a few minutes of silence. Then, the police car ahead of him pulled over into the right-hand lane.

"I see the van."

"_Good. We're going to be going just a little slower than you."_

"We? You're in the van?"

"_Yeah. Told you. I have a hard time letting go."_

"I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"_I'm not worried."_

"Fine, but I am."

"_Just focus on keeping your cool."_

"No cool here."

Det. Warner laughed.

"_We'll start crushing your engine in no time. All you have to do is keep your car going straight. Don't start swerving. Push on your brakes and keep pumping them until they start to react. If it's your computer system, then, it's possible that breaking your engine will let your brakes work...if they will. If not, we'll still stop you."_

"Okay."

Tim saw the van getting closer and closer to him. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he came closer and closer to collision.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Det. Warner looked at Ben Johnson, the driver of the van. They'd loaded the back of the van with heavy weights. It wasn't made to crumple on impact. It had been made to _never_ crumple. Ever.

"Here he comes. Ready to slow down?"

"Sure thing. I'm glad this isn't _my_ van."

Det. Warner laughed. "It's not mine, either."

"_Det. Warner, I'm about to hit you. I hope you know what you're doing."_

"He's pretty freaked out," Ben said.

"He has the right to be," Det. Warner said. "Agent McGee, we're ready."

There was a heavy jolt, threatening to push them on down the road.

"Nice," Ben said. "I'm going to start braking, okay?"

"Do it."

Ben put on the brakes and there was a squeal from the back. The Porsche wasn't slowing down at all.

"Definitely not the brakes. If it was, this would slow it down."

"Yep." Det. Warner talked to Tim again. "Okay, you pushing the brakes, Agent McGee?"

"_I'm almost standing on them. I'm still going sixty."_

"We can feel that. We're going to start slowing down. Get ready for a heavy jolt. If your airbag deploys, just don't jerk the wheel. Try to keep the car going straight."

"_Okay."_

Det. Warner looked at Ben.

"Slow us down."

"It's a shame to destroy such a nice car."

"Try not to blow it up. We're going to need to see what caused this."

"Right."

Ben pushed on the brakes. They felt a heavy jolt. Then, a strangled exclamation from the phone told Det. Warner that something had happened.

"Agent McGee?"

There was no reply.

"Agent McGee!"

"_Ow."_

"Airbag?"

"_Yeah. Ow. I can't see a thing."_

"Just keep going straight. That's all you need to do."

"_I don't think the engine has slowed down at all."_

"Give us a chance. Next jolt is coming."

Ben nodded and gave another slow down. They could both feel the pressure of the car behind them wanting to go faster than the heavy van was letting it.

"Another jolt."

Ben pushed on the brakes again. There was a loud crunching sound and another loud exclamation from the phone.

"Agent McGee?"

He could hear some heavy breathing but there was no response.

"Agent McGee, talk to me."

Still nothing.

"He's freaked," Ben said.

Det. Warner looked in the sideview mirror and suddenly realized that Tim's car was falling behind.

"Looks like we did something. Slow down more. The car must be dead."

Ben nodded and started slowing down gradually. There was little resistance, and no speech. They kept slowing down. Whatever Tim was thinking, he wasn't sharing. Of course, he could be passed out or something worse. Best that they get slowed down as quickly as possible. Another few minutes and they were finally at a stop. Det. Warner slugged Ben on the shoulder and jumped out. He hurried back to the Porsche. The front was crumpled as they had planned.

He walked to the driver's side and opened the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Det. Warner smiled sympathetically. Tim was leaning on the steering wheel. His shaking was obvious and he was breathing harshly. Det. Warner crouched down.

"Agent McGee?"

"I think I'm going to throw up."

His voice was shaking almost as much as he was.

"That's fine. You want to get out of the car?"

"I don't think I can stand up yet."

"Take your time. The reporters haven't descended just yet."

"R-Reporters?"

"Yeah. You're going to be famous. The radio was broadcasting information so that people wouldn't get in the way. Your drive lasted for over an hour. They'll get here."

"I don't want to be famous. I don't want to talk to reporters."

"Well, I won't force you to."

Tim looked at him for the first time. The airbag had given him a bloody nose and a black eye. He was very pale and swallowing convulsively.

"Longest hour of your life?" Det. Warner asked.

Then, as Tim had said he would, he threw up. He leaned out of the car and vomited on the ground, forcing Det. Warner to back away. After he finished, he leaned back against the seat and breathed deeply. He was trying to calm himself down, but the adrenaline was still making him freak out and shake.

"Is he okay?"

Det. Warner looked back at the police who had set up a perimeter, directing traffic around the left-hand lane until they could get the vehicles out of the way.

"Yeah, he's fine. A little freaked out, but he's fine. You got any water at all?"

"Sure."

The patrolman brought a bottle of water over to Tim's car. Det. Warner handed it to Tim and watched as his shaking hands brought it to his lips. He choked on it a little bit, but he drank.

"We'll call for a tow truck, if you want," the patrolman said.

"How are you getting back, Agent McGee?" Det. Warner asked.

"G-Gibbs is...going to be here...soon, I think. He s-said he was coming."

"Okay." Det. Warner stood up and walked over to the patrolman. "Call the tow, but they're going to have to take this car back to DC, to NCIS headquarters on the Yard. So make sure they know that up front, and they'll probably have to be authorized to tow it in; so it might be easier just to wait until Agent Gibbs gets here."

"All right. I'll let them know."

"Thanks."

"You sure he's all right?"

"Physically. Yeah."

"Yeah. I don't blame him. Just thinking about what might have happened if he'd been headed _into_ DC instead of away from it, or if he'd panicked and tried to get off the freeway...I was worried and I wasn't in the car. He's aces in my book. Must have someone watching over him. ...other than the police."

Det. Warner smiled and then walked back to Tim who was still sitting in the car.

"Agent McGee, we didn't call for an ambulance, but..."

"I don't need...an...an...an ambulance," Tim stammered. "I'm f-fine."

"Okay. Then, let's just get you out of the car and you can get some fresh air until your team gets here."

Tim nodded, took a deep breath and swung his legs out of the car, just missing the vomit on the ground. Det. Warner pulled him out and then almost had to support him when Tim's legs started to buckle. He lifted Tim just to the side of the car and let him sink to the ground. He stared at the ground and didn't look up. Det. Warner thought he was probably a little embarrassed. It would be better to let his team help him out more, probably.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim knew he should be fine now. The crisis was over. There was no reason to be so upset. There was no reason to be shaking like a leaf. There was no reason that he shouldn't be able to stand up on his own two feet.

But he wasn't fine.

Even though he was now sitting on the road, completely motionless, he felt like his whole life had spun out of control. He felt like he was still hurtling down the road with no way of stopping. He felt like he was going to die at any moment, and he knew that he shouldn't.

_What a wimp. Can't even handle a little stress, and it's over. Get a hold of yourself, Tim! You're so weak!_

No matter how much he said it to himself, though, he kept feeling that shock, the shaking, the feeling of terror. He had to admit it. He was weak and it was embarrassing. He really hoped that Det. Warner had been exaggerating when he said Tim would be famous. Tim didn't want to be famous, particularly not for this. That was the last thing he wanted.

He tried out the possibility of standing up and acting like a real man.

No good. He was still shaking.

Giving up, Tim rested his elbows on his knees and wrapped his hands around his head. He'd calm down eventually. Hopefully before anyone from his team saw him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They were let through the blockade. They parked and watched as a slow stream of cars drove by the scene, people gawking at the cause of the slowdown..

"They said he was okay," Tony said.

Gibbs nodded and walked forward toward where Tim's car was crunched and a large old van was severely dented in the back. He couldn't see Tim, but Det. Warner walked over with a smile.

"Agent Gibbs."

"Det. Warner. Didn't expect to see you here."

"I was in the neighborhood. Knew someone willing to give his van to a worthy cause."

"Where's McGee?"

"Just over by the van. He's managed to get on his own two feet, but it's been hard going. He was _really_ freaked out, not that I blame him. I think he's trying to prove that he's okay by pushing through his panic, but he's really wound up, still."

Gibbs nodded.

"All right."

"The tow guys will take the car to NCIS. They're just waiting for clearance."

"They've got it."

"All right. I'll let them know."

They walked around and saw Tim standing, as Det. Warner had said. He was leaning against the van, his fingers splayed out against the side, and staring at the ground. It looked like he was still trembling a little. After 45 minutes, Gibbs was surprised that Tim was still that worked up.

"McGee?"

Tim didn't move.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"You made it."

"Yeah."

"You all right?"

"No."

There was a shaking in that single-syllable word.

"We're going to figure out what happened as soon as we get the car back to NCIS."

"Okay."

Tony and Ziva both looked more than a little surprised at how shaky Tim was still.

"Hey, Probie, that was some smooth driving from what I heard," Tony said.

"Yes," Ziva said, nodding in agreement. "I am impressed that you were able to keep driving until they stopped the car."

"Impressed? ...or shocked?" Tim asked...without looking up.

"Impressed," Tony said. "Definitely."

Tim pushed himself upright and faced them, a fake stoic expression plastered on his face.

"What now, Boss?" Tim asked.

"Now, we go back to NCIS, get your car back there and find out what happened."

Tim nodded.

"I'd rather not drive," he said with a shaky smile.

"I'm driving," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded again...and didn't make any effort to walk.

"You coming?" Gibbs asked.

Tim didn't look like he wanted to try to walk, but he nodded and took a step. Gibbs was ready just in case Tim didn't make it, but he did. He was a little shaky, but he walked. They headed to the sedan. Tim didn't say anything. He got in the back even though Tony was going to let him sit in the front. Just this once. Gibbs was slightly surprised when Tony gave the front seat to Ziva and he got in the back.

"Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs turned around before getting in the car.

"Detective."

"You've got a good man there."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you felt that way."

"I didn't."

"What changed your mind?"

"The fact that the only thing he was worried about during all that was hurting someone else. He didn't even mention the possibility of his own injury or death. He didn't want to hurt or kill anyone. When your life is on the line, you're not trying to impress anyone. He impressed me, and I believe you. It was an accident."

"You could tell him that."

Det. Warner smiled. "I think he has enough on his mind right now. I don't want to bring that event up right now. Later."

"All right. Thanks."

"Let me know what you find, all right?"

Gibbs nodded and got in the car.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was leaning against the window as they headed back to DC. He hadn't said anything unless asked directly, and even then, his answers were as short as possible.

"You all right, McGee?" Tony asked.

"I'm fine," Tim said.

"Are you sure?" Tony asked. "You seem pretty–"

"I said that I'm _fine_," Tim snapped.

Tony was surprised at the anger Tim expressed. Tim took a deep breath and let it out with his eyes closed.

"Sorry, Tony. I'm just a little keyed up, still. But I'm fine."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Tony said.

"Yeah."

Tony met Ziva's gaze, but she didn't seem to know what to say, either. If Tim was embarrassed by what had happened, maybe it would be best just to let him be silent.

So they did.

The rest of the ride to NCIS was quiet. At first, the radio was on, but when Tim seemed to wince at every mention of the "wild events" of that morning, Gibbs turned it off without comment.

When they got back, Gibbs parked and they started inside.

"Boss?" Tim asked, stopping before they reached the door.

"What, McGee?"

"Do you mind if I...just stay outside for a little bit. Get some...air?"

No one bothered to mention that Tim already had been in the open air for a while. They could see that Tim didn't want to go inside yet.

"You stay close by," Gibbs said seriously.

Tim nodded. "Just in Willard Park. I just want to sit outside for a little while. I won't go anywhere else."

"All right."

They started inside and then, Tim stopped them.

"I'll give my statement and everything, Boss. I promise. I wouldn't...not do that."

Gibbs nodded. "I never thought you wouldn't."

Tim nodded in reply and walked away.

"What's up with him, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Embarrassed by the attention," Ziva said.

"Maybe," Gibbs said.

They headed in. Ducky was waiting in the bullpen

"Jethro, where's Timothy?" Ducky asked. "Abigail is down waiting for the car to be delivered. She's determined to figure out what went wrong."

"McGee's outside. Go talk to him."

"Of course," Ducky said and smiled at both Tony and Ziva and left.

"Boss?" Tony asked.

"Just in case," Gibbs said.

That was all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat on the bench in the park. He didn't want to go inside and be confronted by what had happened. He didn't want everyone to look at him, knowing that he had endangered other lives for upwards of an hour. He didn't want to see pity, derision or sympathy in anyone's eyes.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

It was just another thing to add to all the other embarrassing aspects of his life that were being revealed. He had hoped to keep up the illusion of competence a while longer.

It was swiftly vanishing into the ether.

So...now what?


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_It wasn't much. Could this mean what Tibbs thought it meant? How could it be?_

_But John had said it. He had known. Maybe he hadn't known why, but he had known and told them so. Had said it over and over again._

_Tibbs watched as Colin snuck into the clearing, intent on getting to the tree. If he had stayed away, Tibbs would have had to give up._

_But he hadn't._

_Now, it was all about waiting. Waiting for Colin to give himself away._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked out of the building and saw Tim sitting in Willard Park across the street. He headed over.

"Timothy?"

Tim looked up at him and then back down.

"May I join you?"

"Sure."

"Quite a disturbing time for you, I take it?"

"That's putting it mildly," Tim said.

Ducky patted Tim on the back, noticing that Tim was still quivering with tension.

"I don't blame you. Being unable to stop my car would be frightening at the least."

"Understatement of the century, Ducky," Tim said, sounding a little angry.

"What's wrong, Timothy?"

"What's wrong?" Tim repeated. "What's _wrong_, Ducky, is that I could have got a lot of people _killed_ today! That's what's wrong!"

He got to his feet and took a few steps away from Ducky.

"You _saved_ lives, Timothy," Ducky said, surprised at Tim's vehemence. "Your driving prevented an accident from happening."

"That doesn't change the fact that it's my fault there was any danger at all."

"What are you saying, Timothy?"

"I'm saying that I've been sitting out here trying to get the courage to do what I should have done already. I had more than an hour to say it, and I couldn't."

"What should you have said?"

Tim didn't turn around.

"I should have told Gibbs that I'm quitting."

"Quitting? Whatever for?"

Tim turned around.

"This was my fault, Ducky! I can't believe that no one has realized how _much_ this is my fault."

"Why would you think that it was your fault? You didn't ask for this to happen, and you did your best to keep it from becoming a disaster. And you succeeded! Where would you get the idea that you're to blame?"

"I was so insistent that there was nothing else that was going to happen. I thought I knew them well enough. I thought that everyone else was being ridiculous. These are people I've known for _years_, Ducky! I've been on the receiving end of their antics for years. I should have been able to guess what would come next, and I had no idea! None! I didn't think there was anything else _to _expect. Why would they try again? Why? There's no reason! And I was wrong! And my being wrong could have _killed_ someone!"

Tim let out a whoosh and then sat down on the bench again.

"There's no excuse for being _that _incompetent. I'm a federal agent and I'm not supposed to put people in danger. I'm supposed to protect them. I'll bet that Gibbs would accept my resignation this time, even if he didn't the last time."

"What are you saying, Timothy? You think it was your old high-school bullies again?"

"Yes! Who else would it be? That wasn't a simple malfunction, Ducky. No car is going to stop working the way my car did on its own. And it's not because I neglected it. I don't. Someone intentionally rigged my car to stop working like that and there's no one else who had a reason. It was them...and my insistence that it was over led to a situation that could have led to people getting killed! If I have any respect for law enforcement, I should take myself out of the equation before I kill another cop or maybe a random citizen the next time!"

Ducky knew himself to be a talker. Where Gibbs was silent and let people keep talking to fill the silence, Ducky filled the silence himself. This time, he felt that it would be better to wait. Tim was worked up, probably still in a bit of shock over what had happened. He had a black eye and a bruised nose, from the air bag, Ducky guessed. He was not thinking clearly right now, even though he would likely deny that.

After a couple of minutes, Tim sighed.

"I don't want to go in there."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to see what everyone is thinking about me. I don't want to see them rolling their eyes. I don't want to see pity because they've realized just what a wimp I was in high school. I don't want to see blame. But I'm going to have to go back in eventually."

"Yes, you will."

"But if I quit, I'd only have to go in once."

Ducky could see that Tim was serious. While the emotions fueling this desire weren't as straightforward as he was implying, Tim meant it.

"You're going to tell Gibbs about all this, aren't you," Tim said. "That's why he sent you. To talk to me and figure out why I'm still upset when all the danger is over." He laughed a little. "The real reason, of course, is that I'm a wimp. I'm still scared of what happened. I'm afraid of telling Gibbs that I'm going to quit. And I'm afraid of having to look anyone in the building in the eye. You can just tell him that I'm a wimp and that he'll be rid of me soon enough."

Ducky saw no reason to deny what Tim obviously knew.

"You're right. He did send me out, but without any instructions beyond to speak with you. I don't know what he has in mind, although concern is probably part of it."

"Right."

"Timothy, I can see that you're still upset by your whole experience, but I don't think that you have done anything deserving of quitting. Would you be willing to talk to Jethro before you do anything else?"

Tim nodded.

"I'd have to talk to him anyway."

"True. I'll save you the trouble of going back inside if you'd rather stay out here?"

Tim nodded again.

"All right." Ducky patted Tim on the back once more. There was still that same tension.

He headed back into NCIS and walked into the bullpen.

"Jethro?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Your office?"

He nodded.

"He all right, Ducky?" Tony asked.

"Still a bit bothered," Ducky said, avoiding giving specifics. "But I'd guess that he'll recover with some time."

"Good."

Ducky and Gibbs got onto the elevator and Gibbs stopped it.

"Well?"

"I was surprised, Jethro."

"About what?"

"Timothy is sitting out there trying to get the courage to tell you he's quitting."

Gibbs sighed. "He's already done that once before. He can't do that too many times."

"That was a completely different situation. He quit because he refused to give in to the idea of sacrificing his sister for political expediency. There was no question of his ability. He knew he was skilled. He was quitting to show his solidarity with his family. This time...Jethro, he blames himself for what happened."

"Why?"

"Because he's assuming that it was his bullies again."

Gibbs sighed.

"I understand," Ducky said. "Timothy's certainty, even without evidence, has been difficult at best, but in this case, I do think that he's letting his fear take over. Fear of all that could have gone wrong this morning, fear at how badly he feels he misjudged. This was a blow to his confidence in his own abilities. He wants to quit as much because he feels he failed as because he doesn't want to work with people who know what a failure he is."

"He's still out there?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure he's serious?"

"Yes."

Gibbs nodded and turned back on the elevator. He sent it to the main floor and then walked out. Ducky watched him go and sighed. This was a difficult situation because Tim was both a victim and an investigator. ...but at the same time, he was reacting almost as mindlessly as a teenager. Hopefully, Gibbs could break through that mindset and get Tim back in the saddle again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs didn't want to deal with this, but he also didn't want Tim to quit because that seemed like a waste when this wasn't his fault and there was no reason to think anyone else would blame him for it. That meant he'd have to take this time to try and get Tim to do some genuine thinking.

As he walked across the street toward where Tim was still sitting on the bench, he could see Tim holding his badge in his hand, looking at it and nothing else.

"McGee."

Tim looked at him, back at the badge and then, he sat up.

"Boss..."

"Don't even say it, McGee. There's no point."

"Yes, there is." Tim took a breath and held out his badge. "I'm no good at this, Boss."

"Yes, you are," Gibbs said, not taking the badge. "What happened today doesn't negate everything else."

"Yes, it does. Because my mistake could have got someone killed. Again."

"That can happen to anyone," Gibbs said.

Tim shook his head and kept the badge out. Gibbs could see that Tim was still shaking a little bit. Why? He couldn't help but wonder what more was going through Tim's head because, yes, it had very likely been a terrifying experience, but it had been a couple of hours ago. It wasn't that Gibbs expected Tim to be just fine without any recovery time, but to be showing a physical reaction even now?

He sat down.

"What's going on, McGee?"

"What do you mean?"

Gibbs pointed at Tim's shaking hand.

"That."

"I'm trying to tell you I'm quitting. You're just not letting me."

"No. You're still shaking."

Finally, the hand holding the badge dropped to Tim's lap. He looked at the badge again.

"I'm terrified."

"Why now?"

Tim laughed. "Because you've got a wimp on your team, Boss."

Gibbs shook his head.

"Tell me the truth, McGee. Why are you still afraid?"

Tim was quiet for a few seconds.

"Why?" Gibbs asked, actually striving for some patience.

"Because I was wrong."

"About what?"

"About them. I told you they were done. I told you I knew them. I wasn't lying just to get out of having protection. I really thought that. And I was wrong. I was _really_ wrong."

"Why are you so sure it was them and not just a malfunction of your car?"

"Because I know!"

_Thwack!_

"Stop reacting and start thinking, McGee," Gibbs said. "You, of all people, should know that we can't just take your word for it. Tell me _why_ you're so sure."

Tim sighed.

"I know, Boss. I know. I'm not logical about these guys. I _can't_ be. There's too much that I've had to just _take_ from them. That's another reason why I shouldn't be working at NCIS."

"Meaning?" Gibbs asked, stifling a sigh.

"Because I can't be objective. What if something touching on this comes up? I've already demonstrated how much it still bothers me."

"Tell me why you're so sure about it being a malfunction," Gibbs said, choosing to focus on something solid rather than Tim's current determination to think the worst of himself.

Tim took a breath and was quiet for a few seconds.

"You have a reason and it's not just because of your bullies. Why? If I don't think it's valid, I'll tell you, but you need to tell me what you think you know."

Tim nodded.

"This was a weird thing that happened, Boss. Malfunctions like this don't happen. It's too profound a breakdown. This wasn't my brakes. It wasn't my display not working. It was something programmed," he said, sounding more grounded just by explaining himself. Gibbs was privately relieved.

"Explain."

"I had decided to go around on the Beltway just to..." Tim flushed.

"What?"

"To enjoy being alone for a little while. I don't usually spend so much time in other people's company. I like being alone sometimes."

"Okay."

Tim shot him a look, as if he'd expected to be berated.

"I pushed on my brakes multiple times before I got on the Beltway. I hit lights. There was some traffic. Nothing was wrong. Boss, I take good care of that car. It cost me a _lot_ of money and my intention was to drive it for a long time...making sure that I kept it in good condition." Tim sighed. "So much for that. But there were no problems. The brakes weren't sluggish. The displays were working fine. Everything was perfect. Then, I got on the Beltway and I didn't notice anything being wrong until I tried to take off the cruise control. It hadn't got too busy yet. I tapped on the brakes and nothing happened. When I tried to turn off the cruise control manually, the displays went out and nothing happened to the speed. I turned the key. I even tried to put it in park. Nothing worked. That means that someone got into the computer system. Because there's no reason why everything should have broken like that all at once. No reason...unless someone made it that way. Yeah, sure there's always a small chance that there could be some kind of cascading catastrophic failure...but I just don't think that's what happened."

Before Gibbs could celebrate Tim's return to logical thinking, Tim sighed again.

"But if that's what Abby finds, then, I definitely need to resign because it means that I know absolutely nothing about how these things are supposed to work."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and swatted Tim on the back of the head again.

"McGee, what you need to do is keep thinking and stop reacting like you're still a bullied teen."

"That's all I feel like I am right now, Boss. You can say what you want, but that's what I feel like. They've won again, just like they always do."

"Then, stop letting them," Gibbs said.

Tim scoffed. "Yeah, that's what my parents always said, as if I had any control over what they did to me from day to day. The only way I could keep them from winning was by not participating, but when they insist on it, I can't say no. All they've done is escalate the same crap I dealt with in high school. They haven't changed at all."

"You're not in high school anymore, McGee. There's another way you can win."

"How is that?"

"By not letting _them_ dictate what you do with your life. They're not here right now. All you have to do is walk in and do your job."

Finally, Tim looked at him directly without that closed, wary expression.

"What _is_ my job right now, Boss? I can't be involved in solving the case directly because it's about me. What am I supposed to do?"

Gibbs smiled.

"Write up your statement...and stop trying to keep _us_ from doing _our_ jobs."

Tim looked at his badge and then turned and looked back at NCIS.

"I've been able to go for years without people knowing how much of a wimp I was in high school. Sure, they knew I was a geek, that I'm _still_ a geek, but how many people have their high school bullies show up and still have the upper hand?"

"They don't. You've got backup this time, McGee. You're not in this alone."

Tim looked at him, looked away and then back at him.

"Do you really not think less of me, seeing all this?"

"You think I should?"

"Yes."

That simple answer told Gibbs a lot about how Tim was thinking of this whole mess.

It was all his fault.

"No."

Another simple answer, hopefully, heard for what it was. A denial of all that Tim was thinking.

Finally, Tim nodded and put his badge away.

"Come on, McGee. Inside."

Tim nodded again and stood up.

"All right, Boss."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tim followed Gibbs inside and up to the bullpen. It was hard to walk to his desk because he felt as though everyone was staring at him. Evaluating him and finding him wanting.

He sat down at his desk and brought up a word processor. He started typing up all the details of what had happened, trying not to let himself feel that same panic that he'd felt before. He was tense, though. He couldn't imagine that it had been anyone else besides David and Louis who had done this to him, and that meant that they'd tried to kill him. Twice. It made so little sense. They were risking too much to get him out of the way.

_Why do they want me dead so much?_

But they _had_ threatened him before...because of his book, but why would they do it when, by his own admission, they had nothing to worry about?

He stopped typing and leaned on his hand, staring blindly at his computer screen.

"McGee."

Tim jumped.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Abby needs you to tell her about the malfunctions. Go down to the lab."

"Should I be down there, though?" Tim asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to go down there, have Abby treat him like a child. "I can give my statement. It'll be thorough."

"Go, McGee."

Tim nodded and tried to avoid Gibbs' inquiring gaze. Instead, he hurried to the elevator and went down to Abby's lab.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Louis was infuriated. He'd been watching the news as soon as he'd heard about the car going out of control. He'd been so sure that there would be a fiery crash at the end of it. It was going exactly as David had said.

...but then, the car had been stopped. No injuries. None. He was furious. All the planning had led to nothing. He didn't lose. He'd never accepted losing easily...because he didn't accept losing. The more Tim managed to avoid his punishment, the more determined Louis was to mete it out. He got out his phone and dialed.

"_Hi, Louis. Yes, I saw."_

"You said this would work!"

"_I said it _could_ work. It did what I said it would. He was just good enough to get out of it. Louis, that's how it goes."_

"Not for me."

"_Louis, give it up. It's not worth it."_

"Maybe not to you."

There was a silence that extended. Louis was shocked.

David had hung up on him. He tried to call back, but David didn't answer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby?" Tim called out. He couldn't see her, although her music was playing at its usual volume.

He stepped further into the lab.

"Abby? Gibbs said you needed to talk to me? About my car?"

Abby was in her office. When she saw him, she ran out.

"Abby, I'm not fully recovered yet," he said putting out his hands in defense.

Abby laughed and hugged him gently.

"Your face looks like it hurts."

Tim laughed a little.

"Better than the alternative."

"So...are you going to tell me what happened?"

Tim felt himself get nervous again. It must have shown on his face.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Abby asked.

"Abby...what if it's not what I think it is? What if I just panicked and there was really nothing wrong with my car? What if–?"

Abby hugged him again.

"Tim, you wouldn't panic that much, even if you did to start. You were driving for an hour! You wouldn't be so panicked that you missed the brakes or couldn't figure out how to change gears. Why are you so sure it's your fault?"

Tim took a breath and tried to relax.

"I don't know. But it seems like...Abby, everyone knows that I was bullied now. I didn't want anyone to know about that. It's bad enough that it happened in the first place. Now, there's this, and it's just going to be more attention I don't want. I don't want people talking about me or pitying me. ...and if it _was_ them, they're not letting go of the bullying. If it _wasn't_, then, I'm completely irrational when I'm thinking about them. I don't know what to do about it."

"We'll find out what happened, Tim, and it won't be because you did anything wrong. I have to admit that I had no idea you could drive so well. I'm impressed."

"Didn't save my car," Tim said, glumly.

"You'll get it fixed."

"Maybe I shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I was celebrating my book and how well it was doing, but...no one else is happy about it and with all that's been happening since then...there just doesn't seem like much point. I don't know if I could really enjoy it now. Anyway, what do you need to know?"

Abby looked like she wanted to argue with him, but she didn't.

"I need you to tell me what you saw with the car. Since I know that _you_ are a details kind of guy, you can tell me the order you noticed things, the trigger and all that."

Tim nodded. "Okay. You've got the computer program going?"

Abby nodded. "But it just started. So I'm downloading all the stuff from the computer and then, I'll start working on it. You could help."

Tim shook his head. "No, I'd better be hands off. I'm not reliable for this..." He took a breath. "Not for this stuff."

Abby had a sympathetic expression and she hugged him quickly.

"Let's just get going on it. What was the first part?"

"Well, it started with the cruise control, I'm pretty sure. I didn't have any problems until I tried to turn it off."

"So that was the trigger...or at least turning it off was. If it turned on fine and you didn't notice anything then..."

"I didn't."

"Okay. That gives me a good place to start. Did it all fail at once?"

"No...at least I didn't notice it all at once. It was the brakes first, and then, when I tried to flip off the cruise control, the displays went out. I don't know if the key and the gears were out at the same time. I didn't try those first...because I didn't realize how serious it was."

"Who would?" Abby looked at him more closely. "Tim, you still seem really freaked out."

"I am," Tim admitted, seeing no point in pretending to be tougher than he was.

"Don't worry. We'll find them!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you will," Tim said and sighed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay," Tony said, "Abby's working her magic. So what are _we_ going to do to figure stuff out until she finishes?"

"If McGee is right and it was these men...Larson would have the skills, more than likely. He works with exotic cars," Ziva said. "They would have had to do it in advance."

"And McGee wasn't driving his car after the assault anyway. They had a few days to do it."

"But when? How will we know when they actually did it?"

"Maybe the computer will have something like...like when someone fiddled with it. Or something."

Ziva laughed. "That sounded very technical, Tony."

"Hey, I'm not the computer guy! That's McGee! Shouldn't he be up here helping us?"

"He's helping Abby," Gibbs said.

"Great. But when is he going to be back up here?" Ziva asked. "He cannot be involved in everything, but he should be here giving us information."

"He's already giving Abby information."

"Boss...what's up with him?"

"Yes, it is like he is trying to avoid us, but what have we done to deserve that?"

"Besides resent him for his book?"

"This isn't about that," Tony protested. "I haven't said a word about it since he got attacked before. Boss, what's with him?"

"He's embarrassed," Gibbs said bluntly.

"About what? Saving people after his car went out of control?" Ziva asked.

Tony got it. "It's because of the bullies, isn't it. It's because they got to him."

Gibbs nodded.

"I would not have expected this of McGee," Ziva said. "Why is he giving them so much power? He is not a teenager anymore."

"Have you ever been bullied, Ziva?" Tony asked. "Nevermind. Don't answer that. I know."

Ziva laughed a little.

"What is your point?"

"It doesn't go away."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"Maybe. I'm just pointing out that having the people who made your life miserable suddenly show up again and try to kill you isn't going to be something you just shrug off."

"Perhaps. But he has nothing to be embarrassed about. I do not care if he was bullied when he was younger. I care about what he does now."

Gibbs smiled a little.

"Give him time with Abby and he'll be great," Tony said. "She won't accept anything less."

Ziva's brow furrowed.

"What? I recognize that look. You've thought of something."

"We have to wait for Abby's analysis of the computer. If that is the case, and if it turns out that there is something to prove that McGee's bullies are the attackers, then, it must be related to what he wrote in his book, meaning that it must be about the girl who died in high school."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That we try to get at the truth of that event. If it is what began all this, then, we should know what the situation was. How was it solved in _Deep Six_?"

"It leads into something bigger," Gibbs said. "Some kind of conspiracy."

"How was it solved, though?"

"Not in a way we could solve it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tibbs watched silently. Colin walked to the tree and knelt down by the trunk. He began searching through the leaves and dirt. Tibbs waited. That was the most important thing right now. The way Colin was moving, he knew what he was looking for, something that the police had missed, something the feds had missed, too._

_That rankled because Colin was a teenager and he had almost pulled the wool over everyone's eyes._

_If he had stayed away, he would have won._

_Colin stood up, something clutched in his hand. He looked relieved and headed out of the clearing._

_Tibbs smiled._

"_I thought I told you to stay away from here, Mr. Bete. Why don't you give me what you just picked up."_

_Colin's expression was exactly what Tibbs would have expected of the guilty party._

_He looked like a deer in the head lights._

"_Hand it over, Colin."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Tim, I've got the program. It's time to see what there is," Abby said.

Tim nodded mutely. Abby started looking through the code. She looked back and Tim was sitting back, not coming up. It was like he was afraid to look. She hoped that she found something. She didn't like Tim being so uncertain, so _defeated_. He had been humiliated, and she didn't like that, either. No one had the right to do that.

She would find the source of the malfunction and make sure that there was something to tell them who had done it.

No matter what.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The doors to Autopsy opened and Ducky looked up.

"Anthony, Ziva, what brings you to my domain?"

"How much have you looked at the report of the girl's autopsy?" Tony asked.

"Not as much as I'd like, although I can easily see where the M.E. or whoever it was covered up the evidence of the abortion. Gaps in the account that should have contained that information. It was the declaration of suicide that saved them. If it had been declared a murder, there would have been more scrutiny."

"Is there anything in there that would indicate something other than suicide?" Ziva asked.

"Something they might have missed?" Tony added.

"On purpose?"

"On purpose...on accident...I'm not picky."

"Why the sudden focus on this?"

"If McGee is right and his bullies did this to his car, then, there's a reason."

"And you think that reason has to do with this unfortunate girl?"

"I can't think of any other reason that would be worth killing for."

Ducky nodded. "Very well. I will return to my examination of this report. There may be details I missed on the first read through. Perhaps all this effort will get Timothy back in the saddle."

"You think he's out of it?"

"Unfortunately, Anthony, I believe that Timothy has not only fallen out of the saddle, but he's on the verge of running away from the horse all together. All of this has been a major blow to his self-confidence. He was ready to quit just to avoid having you all see him and know that he had been bullied."

"Quit? McGee? No way!" Tony said. "With how much McGee loves his job, no way would he let them drive him away."

"He might regret it, but it could easily happen, and it doesn't depend on whether or not this case is solved."

"What does it depend on, then?" Ziva asked.

Ducky smiled. "On whether or not Timothy can remember his own value."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Tim looked at himself in the mirror. He'd ventured out of Abby's lab and to the men's room. He'd tried to time it so that there would be less chance of seeing anyone in there. He had no desire to speak to any of his coworkers at the moment.

By any standard, Tim knew he looked pitiful. He had a black eye and his nose was a little bent from the air bag. Besides that, he was still a little worn from the assault. It kept him from moving as freely as he'd like. All in all, he looked like the wimp he was. He rubbed his hands over his face and wondered just what he was going to do about all this. He hadn't felt this uncertain and ashamed even back when he'd first started here...when scuttlebutt had said that he and Kate were getting it on in the elevator when it broke down one day. That had been embarrassing, but it was nothing compared to this, to being revealed as the imposter he was.

_What was I thinking? A real agent doesn't have this kind of thing to worry about. A real agent wouldn't be thrown by bullies. He certainly wouldn't be targeted by them as an adult. Last year, I managed to both kill an innocent cop and _not_ kill a corrupt cop. A few months before that, I couldn't protect Erin from college kid. My own sister almost got raped just a few weeks ago! All this on top of those things. Why in the world would Gibbs be keeping me on? It couldn't just be pity. Gibbs doesn't work like that._

Then, he heard the restroom door opening. He didn't want to see anyone. He hurried into the stall and closed the door. Whoever it was didn't seem to have noticed him. The person just went about his business, lingering longer than Tim would have liked. He kept willing the man to leave.

Finally, the man left. Tim sighed with relief. He came out of the stall and looked at himself in the mirror again.

The image hadn't improved in any way. He sighed at himself. This wasn't something he was going to start telling anyone about. It was hardly impressive. Why add fuel to the fire? He was a wimp, but he didn't need to be thought of as any more of a weakling than necessary.

_Can I come to work every day knowing what everyone is thinking of me now?_

Tim wasn't sure. There was no point in trying to quit before the case was over. He'd have to be here too much. He was pretty sure that, if he told them he was quitting, they'd feel obligated to try and convince him not to, no matter what they really thought...and he figured that they'd be privately relieved to see him go. Who would really want to have their lives depending on someone like him?

But he put it aside. No one's lives depended on him right now. Melissa was dead already, and he was the only other person who had been in danger. He didn't have a car to drive; so they couldn't try that again, which meant he couldn't endanger anyone else's lives. If they were determined to take him out, it would be much more likely that they'd go the direct route. Since he wouldn't have thought they'd try a second time at all, he had no idea if they'd try a third time.

He should probably make himself available if there were any other questions, but he didn't want to leave the men's room.

Tim laughed at his reflection.

_How pitiful am I that I'd rather stand in a public restroom than be seen by anyone?_

Everything he saw about himself at this point was just a further indication of how much of a wimp he was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky read and reread the autopsy report. He was bothered that someone had been willing to cover up a fact about the case just to make people feel better. That wasn't what an M.E. was supposed to do. The medical examiner's task was to get at the truth, _not_ to cover it up. That someone _had_ done just that... It was wrong.

Equally, he was appalled at the death of Melissa Banger. Whether it was a suicide or a murder, a young woman's life had been lost.

Then, his attention was caught by a detail that he'd missed before. One detail led to another and then, that led him to look at the photos.

...and then, he decided that he needed to talk to Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby wasn't sure where Tim had disappeared to, but she knew that he was still feeling self-conscious by all that had happened and she didn't want to force him to deal with that. She had a lot to do anyway. Not only was she working on the program, but she had to process the car. There were a lot of fingerprints, but some were smudged, and how many were just from the last time Tim had taken his car in to be serviced. There was a lot to do.

It was the computer in Tim's car that had her attention, though. Abby wanted to know just how it had been done. While Tim was questioning his judgment, Abby was sure that he was right. He wasn't stupid and panic or not, bullies or not, Tim hadn't become somehow less intelligent or experienced than he'd been before. There was something to find and she was going to find it.

The door to the lab opened.

"Abigail! Could you turn down your music for a moment?"

Abby smiled. "Sure, Ducky!" She brought the level down to what she knew he'd prefer. "What's up?"

"I was hoping that Timothy would be in here with you. That's where I understood he'd been."

"He left about half an hour ago. I figured I'd let him go. He's kind of embarrassed about all this stuff coming up again. I think he'd rather be alone."

"Quite probable, but I need to speak with him. Any idea of where he went?"

"No, but he's probably somewhere in the building. I don't think he'd leave."

"Perhaps, but I'd rather know for sure and I have a couple of questions. Any progress on your end?"

"Some, but car programming can be complicated. It's much more focused and specialized than a regular computer, and I don't want to miss anything. Really, it would be great if Tim could help me, but he said that he'd better not be directly involved."

"Hmmm...well, I'll see if I can find him."

Ducky left and Abby turned back to the programming. She was always amazed at how much cars were controlled by computers nowadays. She put her music back at her preferred level, and set a search running to find the place where the programming had been changed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky walked into the bullpen. Tony and Ziva were both looking through copies of the case file, trying to find more information.

"Have either of you seen Timothy?" he asked.

"Not recently," Tony said. "He's down with Abby."

"No, he's not. He left about half an hour ago, she said."

Ziva's brow furrowed.

"Do you think he left? He would not do _that_, would he? Not with people trying to kill him."

"I think he's in the men's room."

The unexpected voice made Ducky turn. Agent Lovitz had stood up from his desk on the other side of the bullpen.

"Really?"

Lovitz walked over and joined them.

"Yeah. He was hiding in one of the stalls when I went in there about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, dear."

Lovitz smiled. "Better than him going somewhere else. What's going on?"

Ducky hesitated. Timothy's humiliation about this case was probably uncalled-for, but he didn't want to spread around the worry Tim had about how he was being perceived.

"He's still a bit stressed by what happened this morning."

"I don't blame him. That would freak me out. I don't like driving. I usually let Geri do it."

Ducky smiled.

"Well, I guess I'll go seek him out there."

"I'll go and get him, Ducky," Tony said suddenly.

"Are you sure? Don't you have work to do?"

"Always, but I can take a break."

"Very well. I'll wait here."

Tony headed off to the men's room, and Lovitz looked at Ducky again.

"Are you sure that's all it is, Ducky?"

"I'm sure it's not, but it's part of the story. It's not my place to share it all."

"All right. If there's anything we can do, let me know."

"I will."

Lovitz headed back to his desk and Ducky wished that Tim would open his eyes to see that there were many people who were on his side and didn't care about what had happened in the past.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony stepped into the men's room, just in time to see the stall door close. He smiled.

"McGee!"

No response.

"Lovitz saw you in here, McGee. I know that's you in the stall."

There was a moment of silence and the door opened and Tim walked out. He walked to the sink and washed his hands, not acknowledging Tony at all.

"Ducky needs to talk to you."

"About what?" Tim asked.

"Don't know. He just was looking for you."

Tim sighed.

"Okay."

"What's up, McGee?" Tony asked. "I don't blame you for being kind of wigged out after what happened, but this isn't that."

"I just want today to be over; so I can go home."

Tony laughed. "After someone tried to kill you again? You're not going home."

Another sigh. Tim was staring at himself in the mirror.

"Maybe I _should _just quit now," he muttered.

"Quit? You? You're not quitting, McGee."

"Why would you want a wimp like me on your team, Tony?" Tim asked. "You've complained about me enough even when you didn't know about all this."

"McGee, all that stuff doesn't matter."

"Tony, I don't..." Tim took a breath and looked at him in the mirror. He didn't turn around. "I don't want to come to work every day and see people staring at me, thinking that I deserve pity or anything like that."

"Pity?"

"Yes! There's a reason I never told anyone about what happened back then. There's a reason I never said anything about Melissa. I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't want people knowing that I was bullied and then have them look at me and think about how wonderful it was that I was trying to do something with my life after my tragic past. I want to be evaluated based on what I do, not on what happened back then."

"People aren't looking at you like that, McGee."

"Right."

"They're not! No one cares about what happened. These guys are jerks regardless."

"Nice of you to say, but I doubt you have your thumb on the pulse of the whole building."

"Who cares?"

"_I_ care!" Tim said loudly and then sighed. "...but it's not just that."

"Then, what else is it?"

"Nothing." Tim turned away from the mirror and started for the door.

"Come on, McGee! What's going on?"

Tim paused, and now, Tony could only see his face in profile. It was a rather downtrodden stance Tim had adopted. Tony wasn't sure whether or not it was deliberate. He also wasn't sure why all this was happening. He could understand being upset, but what had driven Tim so low?

"Talk to me, McGee. I just don't get it. Why in the world would you think you have to quit when I know that you don't want to?"

"How do you know that?"

"Because a few weeks ago, I saw your sister start crying because Gibbs told her you were quitting NCIS for her. She said that you loved NCIS too much to quit. So...why, when there's no reason, would you quit now?"

There was a long silence. Tim still was facing away from him, but his stance became, if anything, even worse than it was before.

"I'm not...cut out for this, Tony. That's why. I'm seeing it now. I'm just not a good agent."

"What are you talking about?"

"Last year, Erin was killed...by the manager of the apartment complex. He wasn't a criminal mastermind! He was a college student! A few months ago, I killed a Metro detective and I couldn't stop his corrupt partner. A few weeks ago, my own sister nearly was raped. And now, my bullies have come back...and because they wanted to kill _me_, I nearly got how many other people killed. In other jobs you don't have to worry about killing innocent people if you mess up. But that's what happening here."

"None of those things are your fault, McGee," Tony said, genuinely surprised by the list. "You were following procedures with Erin and Benedict. You had nothing to do with what happened to your sister...and you _didn't_ get anyone killed. Even Lovitz said that he was really impressed. I don't get it."

"I'm sure you don't," Tim said. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Ducky wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah. McGee..."

Tim ignored him and walked out of the men's room. Tony stared after him. He would never have expected Tim to be acting like this. He had always been too devoted to his job. No way would he let someone force him out.

...and yet, he had seen Tim's reaction to Benedict. They all knew that there was no way to tell whose bullet had been the kill shot, but clearly, Tim didn't care about that. Tony hadn't realized that it was still that much of a problem for him. He also didn't know how to knock Tim out of this mindset. He was so focused on things being wrong that he really didn't seem able to see how right they were.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tim walked back to the bullpen, dreading having another conversation about all this. He really just wanted to cut his losses before he was reluctant to leave his apartment for fear of people seeing him and knowing what he was.

"Tim! Tim! You've got to come and see!" Abby said, running at him.

"See what?"

"I found it and you were right! You were so right and you've got to come see it!"

"Uh...Ducky wanted to talk to me," Tim said. He looked at Ducky. "Tony said you had a question?"

"Oh, it can wait, Timothy. Abigail is clearly excited."

"Yes, clearly," Tim said. He wasn't sure he could take Abby's glee right now, but Ducky wasn't giving him an out; so he let Abby grab his hand and drag him down to her lab.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony sat down on the edge of his desk.

"What did he have to say, Anthony?" Ducky asked.

"He wants to quit. He thinks that he's a bad agent and he thinks that everyone is going to be looking down on him because of the bullying stuff. He hates that people know about it. Ducky, I don't get why he'd let this drive him away. I mean...I get that he's embarrassed about it...but so embarrassed that he doesn't want to work here anymore? I don't get that and he was talking about Erin Kendall and Benedict and Sarah. I mean...it's like he's making this one thing the...the straw that broke the camel's back...and he hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Abby said that he is considering not repairing his car," Ziva said.

"What? Why not?"

"Because he doesn't feel he deserves it," Ducky said. "You're right. He's making his past the defining characteristic of his present, whether the rest of us are or not. That's the problem at its heart. His bullies are beating him down, not physically so much as mentally, simply because they've invaded his life whether he wants them to or not...and brought his first failure to the fore again."

"What do we do about it?"

"I do not think that _we_ can do anything," Ziva said. "It has to be him. He has not really believed us when we have said that we support him."

"Where's Gibbs?" Tony asked. "Maybe he could knock some sense into him."

"He's tried. It may be that Timothy simply needs the time to adjust. When one has concealed something for so long, having it come out can be difficult to accept, particularly when it's embarrassing as this has been for Timothy. He also has the added pain of grief that would make it harder. We will simply have to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't make any rash decisions."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Agent Gibbs, would you care to explain why I'm getting multiple requests for information from the media, Metro and the Maryland State Police?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"You must know something already, Director."

"Only that Agent McGee has once again become involved in something that brings negative attention on NCIS. It seems to be a trend."

"Negative attention? His car was sabotaged and he managed to keep anyone from getting hurt."

"Sabotaged?" Jenny repeated.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Right now, it looks like retaliation from two men who bullied him in high school."

"High school bullies trying to carry it on as adults?" Jenny asked, skeptically.

"He presented them as murderers in his book...and it's looking like he's right."

"Murderers?"

"A friend of McGee's in high school."

"How much of this has evidence and how much is just what he says?"

"Don't know yet. We're still looking into it."

"So what are you telling me to tell everyone else?"

"As little as possible. We're investigating and we don't want to let these men know that we're after them."

"And what does Agent McGee have to say?"

"Why? You planning on trying to get him to quit again?" Gibbs asked.

"Agent McGee committed a crime to protect his sister. He obstructed your investigation."

"You did a great job of manipulating him last time, Director. He doesn't need that this time. We're investigating and when we're done investigating, you'll know what we find. Is that all?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow but nodded.

"For now," she said.

Gibbs just walked out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Tim. You've got to see this," Abby said. "I would have found it sooner or later, but it was sooner because he made a mistake."

Tim leaned forward and Abby was happy to see that he was interested, even if he still didn't look too happy about anything.

"You see the programming there? It was going to be worse than what happened."

"What happened was pretty bad," Tim said.

"Yeah, it was, but the steering was supposed to go out, too. I don't know if you would have survived it if they'd got that right."

"Probably not," Tim said softly.

Abby hugged Tim tightly.

"Man, Tim. These guys... They're awful! It's got to be that David Larson guy. He works with cars like yours. He'd know what to do, wouldn't he?"

Tim surprised her by pulling back and shaking his head.

"David won't have done it," he said.

"What do you mean? I thought you–"

"David doesn't get his hands dirty. He makes the plans because Louis can't handle that. He's not smart enough, but Louis gets the ideas and David makes them work. Louis is the one who did this, the one who messed up. David wouldn't have, but he wouldn't risk being caught. Louis doesn't care. He thinks he'll always get away with it. ...because he always does."

"He won't get away with it this time, Tim!"

"Abby, this doesn't prove it was him. It just proves that someone did mess with my car."

"And _that_ means that you aren't to blame for what happened today! Tim, you need to stop assuming you're going to lose!"

"I have a lot of experience with losing to them."

"Well, you're not losing to them, this time, Tim. So stop it!"

"What are you going to do to prove it was them?"

"I'm going to use the fingerprints that finally finished processing."

"Fingerprints?"

"I told you that I had a bunch, some were smudged and so I had to check them more carefully. Some belonged to your mechanic, but there were a couple that I had to recheck. I should have the results anytime now." Abby looked at the computer, willing it to be done. "Anytime now!"

Tim actually laughed a little.

"Abby, you don't have to try to make me feel better. I don't think that's possible at this point."

"Tim, you need to get out of this funk," Abby said. "There's no reason for it! You haven't done anything wrong, and you need to stop thinking that you did."

The computer beeped. Abby turned to it and brought up the fingerprint results. She smiled and looked at Tim.

"Well, Tim?"

Tim furrowed his brow.

"Well, what?"

"Here are the fingerprint results."

"And?"

"And they show something important."

"What is it?"

"You tell me," she said, wanting Tim to admit to being right about something.

"I don't know, Abby. You're the one with the results, not me."

"Say it, Tim. Tell me whose prints I found."

"Abby, just tell me."

"No, you tell me."

Tim glared at her and Abby stuck out her tongue at him. Even though she was bursting to say it, she wanted Tim to say it instead. He knew who it was. He had already told her, but he was refusing to acknowledge that, and Abby wasn't taking it from him. Tim was far too good at beating himself down when he thought he deserved it.

But Tim capitulated...as he usually did to what Abby wanted him to do.

"Louis," he said with no inflection.

"Bingo! Louis Dietrich! As a trader on Wall Street, he had to be fingerprinted, and I've got a partial and two smudged prints that all correspond to his."

"How sure? How clear are they?"

"Tim, this would get him in court. You should know better than to question me when it comes to forensics. That means that there's _proof_! There's proof that you were right. It was Louis Dietrich who broke into your car and that means that it points to him!"

Inexplicably, Tim nodded and sighed...and then, he sat down and stared at the floor.

"Tim, what's going on? This is my great news and you should be happy about it! What's wrong?"

"Even if that's right, and they don't somehow get away with it again...Abby, it doesn't change what they've already done."

"What have they done? Besides the obvious, I mean," Abby asked, touching Tim's cheek gently. "I don't think that's what you're talking about."

"They came into my life again and did the same thing they've always done. Made it miserable."

"But it doesn't have to stay that way!"

"Except that everyone knows about it, now. That doesn't go away, Abbs. People aren't going to forget that I was enough of a wimp to be bullied in high school."

"Why do you think anyone cares, Tim? Do you really think that everyone is whispering about you and talking about you? I'm sorry, Tim, but...do you really think that you're that important?"

To her disappointment, Tim didn't rise to her question. He just sighed again.

"I don't know, Abbs. I hear what you're saying, and I know that people probably don't care as much as I do. I told Gibbs...I don't feel like an agent right now. I feel like I've been pulled back to how I was in high school. It's like I'm a teenager again, hiding from everyone, except my teachers, because that's the only way to make it through the day...especially after Melissa died. Then, the times I wasn't hiding from everyone, I was yelling as much as I could, trying to _force_ people to listen to me...and there aren't any classrooms to hide in here. It doesn't matter what you do...I just...I can't believe that they won't get away with it, again."

"We solved it in your book."

There was an edge to Tim's voice at the mention of _Deep Six_. "The _characters_ in my book were fictional, using evidence that didn't exist in real life. The _characters_ solved it without my help. And it didn't really happen, Abby. It was all fiction. I wish people would stop trying to make that into reality. And of course, all that anyone paid attention to were the things that were the least true." Tim stood up and looked at Abby. "I'm glad that there's some evidence to back me up. I'm glad you figured out what they did to my car. I just can't believe it'll make any difference. Ducky needed to talk to me. Thanks, Abby."

Tim walked out of the lab.

Abby watched him go and furrowed her brow. Ducky was right. They weren't going to solve Tim's problem unless Tim was willing to accept that this didn't have to be the defining aspect of his life.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked back to the bullpen and saw Ducky talking to Gibbs in a low voice. Tony and Ziva both looked genuinely busy, as if they were actually doing something beyond talk about him. Thank goodness.

"Ducky?" he asked.

Ducky straightened and smiled.

"Ah, Timothy. No one else has claim on you at the moment, I think. Can you give me a few minutes of your time?"

"Of course. What is it?"

"Let's go to...a conference room upstairs, if you don't mind."

"No. I don't mind."

Tim followed Ducky up to the balcony and walked with him to a conference room.

"What is it, Ducky? Why the discretion?"

"Because I wanted to ask you some questions and give you the privacy you seem to wish."

"Questions about what?" Tim asked, now feeling wary.

"I've been reading the autopsy report of your friend."

"What? Why? How many times do I have to tell you guys that there's nothing you can do!"

Ducky's smile was full of sympathy.

"Timothy, I appreciate your perspective on this situation, but I found discrepancies in the autopsy report and I'd like to ask you about them."

"Discrepancies?" Tim asked, his stomach tightening. "What kind of discrepancies?"

"If you're willing, I'd like to ask you my questions first and then, I promise, I'll answer yours."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"Because I don't want to unduly influence your answers. You know that could happen."

"Yeah. Ducky...I don't want this. I don't want to start to hope only to have it pulled away, just like I expect it to be. Before all this started, I'd, more or less, accepted the way things had to be. It was only with you guys starting to probe into it that I really started to think about it again. Ducky, I can't... I didn't _want_ to think about this again. It's in the past and nothing is going to change it."

"That's true. Nothing can change what happened, but that doesn't mean that there's no point in trying to get at the truth...when you have the option," Ducky said.

Tim looked away from Ducky. He just wasn't sure he really wanted to deal with that again, and he wished they'd listen to him...and he could admit, privately, that he wanted to go home and wallow in his misery for a while.

"Ask your questions," he said, finally.

"Thank you, Timothy. Now, the questions I have will likely be painful for you to remember. I will warn you of that, now."

"So what else is new lately?" Tim asked, knowing he was sulking.

"I know that you have been beaten down quite a bit lately, but I hope you can see that things are improving."

Tim sighed. "Just ask your questions, Ducky."

"Very well. How much do you remember of Melissa's death?"

"I remember it very well."

"I mean specifics. You discovered her body, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember the details of the condition of her body?"

The question instantly triggered the memory of finding Melissa in the tree, one of those things Tim had tried hard to forget it.

"I see that you do."

Tim smiled weakly. He definitely wasn't hiding anything at this point.

"Could you tell me what you remember about what she looked like? I'm wanting details if you can give them."

"Details of what?"

"What her body looked like, her face in particular."

Tim took a breath and tried to find some measure of objectivity. He looked up and saw, not the ceiling, but the tree and Melissa's body hanging. He remembered climbing up the tree and trying to get the knots undone so that he could take her down. He had been very close to her face. Ducky didn't rush him, and eventually Tim exhaled.

"Her eyes were open, almost bugging out. Her face had blood on it, from her nose, I think. Maybe her mouth, too. I'm not sure about that. She was...limp, hanging there. I tried to pull her up...but I couldn't get a grip on her. I almost fell out of the tree myself, trying to get her up." He took a quick breath and let it out. "I don't think I'll ever forget seeing her like that. For a second...I thought she might still be alive...because her eyes were open." He forced a laugh and tapped his fingers on the table.

"I'm sorry, Timothy."

"It's long over, Ducky. No need to be sorry."

"I'm sorry for bringing this up again. It's nothing you deserve."

"You're not _really_ sorry, Ducky. You might regret it a little bit, but you're not sorry."

"I _am_ sorry for leading to your feeling more pain. I'm not sorry for trying to find the truth."

"And what is the truth? Why are you asking me about this? You must have had crime scene photos."

"Yes, I did, but no one asked you about that, did they."

"No. Never."

"And you disturbed the body in trying to save your friend, meaning that they never saw her as she was originally. I'm not criticizing. There is no reason for you to have left her as she was."

"And what is it that you found that made it worth doing this?"

"Evidence that doesn't match with a suicidal hanging."

"What evidence?"

"For one thing, your description of her appearance is not consistent with a hanging but rather with manual strangulation...throttling."

Tim felt his brow furrow in surprise. "What do you mean? She wasn't...hung?"

"No, I don't think she was. During the autopsy, they discovered a cornu fracture."

"What's the cornu?"

"It's located in the larynx, near the spine. A cornu fracture is not commonly found in hanging deaths. Nor is a strap muscle hemorrhage, which was also present in the autopsy report."

"But..."

"I don't believe it was an intentional coverup, but rather, a person who had little experience with this kind of death and was swayed by the preliminary declaration of suicide. There was also a fracture of the hyoid bone, but no indication as to whether it was fractured pre- or posthumously. Along with your declaration and your description, I would not say that this a suicide. It looks like a murder."

Tim found that he had a hard time taking in what Ducky was saying.

"I have asked Anthony and Ziva to go over the other details of the location of the body and to investigate the crime scene photos."

"They have alibis," Tim said faintly.

"I'm sure they will also be looking into those alibis."

"Ducky...what are you...what are you saying?"

Ducky's smile was understanding.

"I'm saying, Timothy, that we are getting evidence to support your assertion that Melissa Banger was murdered. What I'm saying is that you were right and we may be able to prove it."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"The ligature is listed as being an old rope. The source was unknown, but given the location, it is not strange that she could have got one if she committed suicide," Ziva said.

"And not strange if someone killed her, too," Tony added.

He and Ziva were looking through all the evidence again in light of Ducky's request. Ziva flipped through the material and then her brow furrowed.

"What?"

"No mention of rope fibers on her hands. If she had to knot the rope, tie around her neck _and_ the branch, surely there would be _something_ to show that she had handled it."

"No rain or anything to interfere?" Tony asked, flipped through the file himself. "No, I don't see anything about it, and the photos don't indicate bad weather."

"How did they miss that?"

"Small town. Not much experience with murders...and everyone already assuming she'd committed suicide," Tony said. "Here's something else that would have had me wondering...and Ducky, probably, too."

"What?"

"The ligature marks on the tree branch." Tony held out the photo. "See? The abrasions aren't consistent with someone tying the rope to the tree and jumping off. This looks like the kind of twisting abrasions you'd see..."

"In a hanging?"

"Yeah, exactly. You can see that the branch got a lot of abrasions, some probably from McGee trying to get her down himself."

"It must have been hard for him to see his friend there."

"Yeah." Then, a horrible thought crossed Tony's mind. Once he'd thought of it, it was impossible to ignore it.

"What is it?" Ziva asked.

"What we're finding indicates that it was probably a murder...but it doesn't really tell us who the murderer was."

"What are you saying?"

"None of us ever stopped to think that, maybe, McGee might have been implicated. He said that he wondered if his dad had got them to take the abortion stuff out of the report. What if his dad did more than that? What if _he_ thought McGee might have killed her and covered it up?"

Ziva's brow furrowed. "Are you saying that you think McGee killed his friend?"

"No. What I'm saying is that it could be interpreted that way unless we can get other evidence. Remember that Dietrich and Larson had alibis. Ten people who said they were somewhere else."

"And there was someone gave them an alibi for the night that McGee was assaulted, too," Ziva said. "Clearly, McGee did not attack himself."

Tony laughed a little. "Clearly. We're working on the assumption that all of these incidents are related. I'm not saying that's wrong, but...maybe we should get something more certain than assumptions."

"Are you suggesting that we set the crime scene aside? That is what Ducky asked us to look at."

"We've looked at it already," Tony said. "We agree that there are some indications of murder. So let's look at these alibis, see if we can track down anyone who said they saw Dietrich and Larson at the time of the murder."

Ziva nodded.

"Perhaps, we will be able to luck out and some of them will be around here."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Then, let us get started."

"All right."

They dove into finding the people who had given Louis and David alibis.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had not really known what to make of Ducky's declaration. Instead, he had headed out, and then, on the balcony, he'd heard Tony's suggestion about his father and that made him stop so suddenly that Ducky almost ran into him and started to ask. Tim didn't say a word. He just grabbed Ducky's arm and shook his head to keep him quiet.

Tony and Ziva moved on from the suggestion rather quickly, but Tim couldn't do that. He'd never considered the possibility that his father might have suspected him. Even when he had found out that Melissa's abortion had been suppressed. Now that the suggestion had been made...

Ducky said nothing, but Tim knew he was still there. Tim just stared down at them as they worked. They didn't seem to realize how significant that could be. They weren't stunned by the idea...like Tim himself was.

The main problem was that he could see his father thinking that way, not necessarily that his son was a murderer, but that he was willing to take any steps to keep others from thinking that. If his father _had_ gone that route...

"Timothy," Ducky said softly.

Tim looked at Ducky and then back down at Tony and Ziva. Then, he pulled out his phone. He wasn't going to call his dad. They hadn't really talked much in the last few years, and Tim didn't make a habit of seeking him out. But he could ask his mother. If she didn't know, she would ask his father. He looked at Ducky once more and walked back to the conference room.

Ducky took the hint and didn't follow him.

Tim sat down at the table and dialed.

"_Hello, McGees."_

"Mom. It's Tim."

"_Tim! How are you doing? We haven't heard from you in quite a while."_

Tim smiled and didn't mention the fact that he'd nearly been killed twice.

"I'm fine, but I need to ask you a question."

"_Sounds serious."_

"Did Dad pressure the police to avoid implicating me when Melissa died?"

There was a long silence.

"Mom?"

"_Melissa Banger?"_

"I don't know too many other Melissas who died."

"_Tim, why are you asking?"_

"Why aren't you answering me, Mom? Did Dad force them to cover up the fact that Melissa had an abortion? Did he keep them from pursuing an investigation that might have led them to me?"

"_Where is this coming from, Tim?"_

"Mom...tell me."

Another silence.

"_Yes, your father kept Melissa's abortion from being made public and he pulled some strings to keep them from looking at you."_

"Did you think I killed her, then?"

"_No! Tim, we never thought about that."_

"Then, why?"

"_To stop you from being hurt any more than you had been."_

"Did you think I got her pregnant? Did you think I did that to her?"

"_We wondered."_

"Even after I told you that I had only helped her get an abortion, and that I wasn't involved in that?"

"_You were so close to her. She was a little bit older than you. She may have..."_

"Never, Mom. Never. I helped her just because we were friends, not because..." Tim took a breath. "Mom, Melissa was raped. That's how she got pregnant."

"_What? You never said...anything about that."_

"She made me promise. It got easier to say nothing."

"_Tim, that's awful, but...it makes even more sense that Melissa killed herself."_

"No, she didn't, Mom! And now there's evidence supporting that...evidence that might have come out if everyone hadn't been so determined to make her suicidal."

"_Evidence? Tim, are you investigating this?"_

"No, I'm not. My team is."

"_Why? This isn't Navy-related."_

"Because the people who killed her tried to kill me."

"_What? Tim...you never..."_

"They didn't succeed, but they tried...because of _Deep Six_."

"_Tim, are you all right?"_

"I'm fine. But don't you see? There's no reason for them to have tried if there wasn't any truth to what I wrote in my book."

"_Tim, they could just be angry. It doesn't have to be true."_

"Mom, Melissa was murdered! Okay? I'm..." Tim stopped himself before he said something he'd regret later. "I've got to go."

"_Tim."_

"Bye, Mom." Tim hung up and sat back, feeling angry and disappointed.

"Feel better?"

Tim jumped and spun around.

"Boss. What are you doing there?"

"Checking on you."

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"It was my dad. He got the police to back off. Mom didn't say what he had to do to get that done, but he stopped the police from investigating. Maybe if he hadn't...maybe they would have done something. Back then."

Gibbs sat down across from him.

"Do you feel any better now that you know?"

Tim laughed a little. "No."

"I'm not surprised."

"I didn't expect to feel better about it. I just wanted to know."

"And?"

"What do you mean?"

"And now that you know?"

"It just means that there's a better possibility that I'm right, that I've always _been_ right."

Tim met Gibbs' eyes and saw more understanding there than he would have expected.

"McGee, you're not helping yourself by obsessing about this."

"I didn't want this at all, Boss," Tim said angrily. "You're the one who insisted on it!"

"To figure out how to keep you safe. If I had known that you would start defining your whole life by this, I might have gone a different route."

"Well, great. It's too late for that, now."

"It's not too late to start looking at things differently. You're acting like you have no future here because of what happened."

"How else should I look at it?"

"Stop thinking that people here are looking down on you. You've had no evidence of that."

Tim stared at the table and didn't answer.

"Why assume that people think less of you?"

"Because they should."

"Why?"

"Because they can see what I really am."

"Which is?"

Tim sighed. "A geek who's playing at cops and robbers. When it comes right down to it, I'm no different from high school. Still the victim of the bullies, still the same wimpy kid that I've been my whole life." He smiled a little...at the table. "Just ask my dad. I never could be tough enough for him. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that he decided I wouldn't be able to deal with an investigation. He didn't think I could handle conducting an investigation, either."

"I don't know your dad," Gibbs said. "I don't care what he thinks. The only problem I see is that you're letting everyone else matter more than what _you_ think."

"And if I agree with everyone else?" Tim asked.

"Depends on who it is."

Tim looked up.

"Boss, aren't you just sick of me yet?"

Gibbs smiled a little. "You're definitely not making it easy to say no."

Tim found himself smiling back.

"I know." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Boss. I just... All this stuff going on. It was hard enough to find my place before, and I feel like they showed up and just took it all away from me again."

"Don't let them, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Yeah, I know."

"No."

The tone of his voice made Tim really focus. He'd heard people telling him how to deal with the bullies too much to pay much attention, but Gibbs seemed more serious than Tim expected.

"No, what?"

"You're not listening. Either that, or you're not believing it. You don't have to give them this much power over you, McGee."

"I'm not giving it to them. They're taking it."

"No, you're giving it to them. You're not sitting back. You're asking them to do it. Why?"

"I wanted to save her, Boss. I was helpless when she told me she had been raped. I did what she asked when she wanted to get an abortion. I just coasted along, letting everything they did go on without any change. And then, she died. Can you understand how angry I was? I was mad at myself, but I really hated them. If I could have, I would have killed them. But I couldn't. I never could do anything to help. Having all this happen...it just makes it even more obvious that I...I failed her. I wasn't the one she should have leaned on. It should have been someone else. All I could do was write a book."

Tim felt the tightening in his stomach and he took a breath to dispel it. He felt ashamed to confess his deep failure. He let out the air in a whoosh and stared at the table again.

He heard Gibbs get up and he assumed he was going to leave, but then, he saw him sit down beside him.

Gibbs squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"You're not a failure, Tim."

"Every time they come after me, they do what they want."

"Only _they_ failed."

"How?"

"You're still alive. If you're right and they really did want to kill you, then, they failed. Completely."

"But Melissa is still dead."

"That's not your fault."

"I didn't kill her."

"And her death isn't your fault."

"I never forgot that moment."

"Tell me."

"You've read _Deep Six_. You don't need more than that."

"You didn't write that part, only what came after. The story starts when your agents show up at the crime scene."

"I don't want to relive that, Boss."

"Once."

Tim looked over at him.

"Why?"

"Tell me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tim ran into the clearing. He looked around. He didn't see Melissa, but after the call from Louis, his taunting, Tim couldn't help wondering what they'd done to her this time._

_There was no one there._

"_Melissa! Melissa! It's Tim! You don't have to hide."_

_He walked farther and looked around more._

"_Melissa!"_

_There was just a bit of a breeze, moving the leaves around. Then, he heard a creak._

_Above his head._

_Tim looked up._

_A body. Hanging from the tree._

"_Melissa!"_

_He ran to the trunk and started to climb. His hands were scraped by the rough bark, but he got there. Then, he crawled out on the branch._

"_Melissa."_

_But he was seeing in the worst way that she was dead._

"_No. No."_

_He kept repeating the word as if that would change what he was seeing._

_He pulled at the rope, trying to get her up so that she wasn't hanging, suspended in the air...dead. She was too heavy. He was too weak. He couldn't get to her. He started to cry as he struggled to get her up. He couldn't leave her there._

_But he had to. In the end, his palms were covered with abrasions, and he hadn't managed to move her._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I climbed back down the tree and...and ran for help. I couldn't understand why they left her up there for so long," Tim said. He'd gone back to staring at the table, although he wasn't actually seeing it.

He was seeing Melissa.

"They said that they had been playing a joke on me, knowing that I'd go, that they didn't know she was actually there, but I always knew that they had killed her. No one would listen. I was too unstable to be believed. Louis' dad was wealthy, connected. David's family had lived in the area for generations. I was just a military brat."

He'd managed not to cry this time. No tears, but he felt the same sense of devastation at relating that awful time as he had felt experiencing it.

"I couldn't get her down," he said again, softly. "I just couldn't get her down."

He rested his elbows on the table and then put his head in his hands.

There was a period of silence and then, Gibbs squeezed his shoulder again.

"That's why you're not a failure, McGee."

"What? That's the epitome of failure."

"Because you didn't give up, even to the point of writing a book so that the story could be known. You never gave up. Don't start giving up now, not when we're getting evidence that supports what you've said. See this through. See it through and make sure that they finally pay the price for what they did in the past and what they've been doing now. See it through."

Tim forced himself to sit up and look at Gibbs again.

"You really don't think that–?"

"Don't make me head slap you, McGee."

Tim smiled a little.

"Do you want to get them?"

"Yeah."

"Then, we'll do it. Come on."

Gibbs stood up. Tim looked up at him for a few seconds. Everyone out there knew. He didn't want to face that.

_Melissa deserves this._

Finally, he nodded and stood as well.

They walked out of the conference room together.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tim walked down the stairs, feeling eyes on him from the bullpen and he struggled not to look at anyone. He didn't want to know whether they were derisive or supportive looks. Either way, he wasn't wanting to see what they might be thinking about him.

"McGee!" Tony said loudly. "Come over here. We've had a great idea about where to go next."

"What is there to do?" Tim asked. "Abby said she'd already told you about finding Louis' fingerprints on my car. You can arrest him based on that. He'll roll over and give up David if he was involved."

"No loyalty?" Ziva asked.

Tim laughed. "No. I don't think they actually like each other. They use each other. David would let Louis fall in a second, and Louis would never go down on his own."

"Good. When we arrest them, we'll keep that in mind, but that wasn't what we were talking about, Probie," Tony said.

"What are you talking about?"

"The thing that started this."

"Melissa?"

"Yeah, and man, McGee, looking at the crime-scene photos... that really sucks."

Tim shrugged. "Yeah. Understatement of the century."

"But we had an idea," Ziva said. "Larson and Dietrich have alibis for that night."

"I know. I was there, Ziva," Tim said, bitterly. Then, he regretted his tone. "Sorry."

"It is all right," she said.

Tim looked at her and saw only sympathy and understanding. The fact that it was _Ziva_ expressing that was a surprise. In fact, Tony seemed sympathetic, too.

"If they killed your friend, then, those alibis are false, yes?" Ziva said.

"Of course. They'd have to be," Tim said.

"Exactly," Tony said. "Two of the ten people who gave them alibis live in driving distance from DC. We're going to check them out, see if, now that they're adults, they're willing to come clean. The evidence says murder, not suicide. So that means _someone _killed her. You made an accusation. It's time to take it seriously."

"Just now?" Tim asked.

"Well, we're pretty slow. Our brains have to warm up before working right," Tony said with a smile.

"What if they don't change their stories? I'm a suspect."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. I was there. I admitted it, and there's evidence that I was up in that tree."

"But you couldn't lift her. That means it's pretty unlikely that you were able to pull her body up to the branch all by yourself."

Tim couldn't help wincing at the image.

"Tomorrow morning, Ziva and I are going to check with them. We'll let you know what they say."

"I guess I have to stay behind, then?" Tim asked, looking at Gibbs.

He nodded.

"Okay. What do you want me to do instead, Boss?"

Gibbs paused for a few seconds, as if considering the best course of action. Then, he smiled.

"We'll be going to New York."

"New York?"

"Where your friend Louis lives."

"Why? Aren't we waiting to arrest them until we have more evidence?"

"We don't have to wait to arrest him for trying to sabotage your car."

"Should I be there, though?"

"Yes." He looked at Tony and Ziva. "Are you still here?"

"Nope. We're gone, Boss."

Tony and Ziva headed for the elevator. After they were gone, Tim looked at Gibbs.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea, Boss? I'm not exactly known for keeping my cool when it's personal."

"Neither am I," Gibbs said. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Home. You need to sleep."

"At your place?"

"Yep."

Tim knew he couldn't complain about that.

"And tomorrow?"

"We're headed to New York."

"But this could be conflict of interest."

"I'll arrest him, but I want you there."

"What if I screw it up?"

"You won't."

Tim gave up with that track.

"That'll be a long drive back with Louis in the back seat. If he starts needling me..."

"You'll stay in control."

"How can you know that?"

"Because this is important. When it matters, you do what you have to do. You'll stay in control and keep your cool even if Larson does try to needle you."

Tim sighed.

"I don't know if I want to see him for that long a period."

"Deal with it."

Orders to accept something he didn't want..._that_ he could deal with.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

First thing the next morning, Tony and Ziva headed out to find the people who had given Louis and David their alibis while Gibbs and Tim drove up to New York.

"There he is," Ziva said, pointing to the man walking out of the building.

"Charles Darryl?" Tony asked.

Charles looked up at them with curiosity in his expression, nothing more.

"Yes?"

"I'm NCIS Special Agent DiNozzo. This Officer David. We'd like to ask you some questions."

"About what? What's NCIS?"

Tony smiled. "I never get tired of that question. Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"Okay...I don't really have any dealings with the Navy."

"That's fine. It's not required," Tony said.

Ziva rolled her eyes slightly and stepped forward.

"We are investigating a cold case, Mr. Darryl. The death of a teenager, years ago."

There was a slight flicker in his eyes. That was all, but it was enough. He knew _exactly_ what they were talking about.

"What do you mean?"

"Melissa Banger. Her death was ruled a suicide."

"Yes. It was terrible. She was a nice girl."

"And there was an accusation leveled at two of her classmates who had alibis, given by you."

"Not just me," Charles said. "There were a lot of people there. I was only one of them."

"But you gave them an alibi."

"Yeah. What does it matter? She killed herself."

"She didn't," Tony said bluntly. "She was murdered. You want to reconsider the statement you gave?"

"Murdered? No way."

"Yes way," Ziva said, ignoring Tony's expression at her choice of words. "The evidence confirms it. This young woman was killed and we are investigating the original accusation against Louis Dietrich and David Larson."

"So, I will ask again, do you want to reconsider the alibi you gave them?" Tony asked.

Charles sighed. "I never thought they were murderers."

"Why give them an alibi if they were not there?" Ziva asked.

"Because when Louis and David told you to do something, you did it, or you paid the price. Why is this coming up now? And why the Navy? No one in the case was in the Navy."

"Because the one person who was apparently not afraid of defying them has been attacked by them."

Charles' brow furrowed.

"Timothy McGee?" Tony suggested.

"He's in the Navy?"

"No. He's a federal agent, and they have tried to kill him _twice_ in the last few weeks."

"Why?"

"Because he wouldn't stop saying that they were murderers, and now, we have evidence."

"Were they with you?" Ziva asked.

"No," Charles said. "No, they weren't. They came to us and told us that they had been there all evening."

"What did you _think_ was the reason for them lying?"

"I figured they'd probably done something to Melissa or to Tim or someone else and didn't want to have to face any punishment for it. They never really did anyway, but if it was bad enough, they might have."

"And that was enough?"

"David and Louis could make anyone miserable if they wanted to. They did it plenty of times to Tim and Melissa. No one wanted to be in their place."

"And yet, if none of you had done what they wanted, they would have had no power at all," Ziva said.

"Yeah, so says the person who never had to face that kind of thing before," Charles said. "Look. I had no idea they were murderers."

"And if you _had_ known?"

"I don't know. Maybe I would have said something...or maybe that would have just made me more afraid of crossing them. I don't know. But I'll tell you now that they weren't there when we said they were. They told us that we had to support what they said. David was very clear on what we'd say. He made sure the stories were all the same."

"David Larson did that?"

"Yeah," Charles said, nodding. "Louis was the blunt force. David did the thinking...not that he couldn't have done some damage himself. He wasn't a wimp, by any means, but Louis was the one who enforced what was said and he had fun doing it. I haven't seen anyone since high school, never went to the reunions, but that's how they were in high school. I never would have thought they would actually kill someone...but I'm not...really surprised."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What if I freeze?" Tim asked, breaking the awkward silence that had reigned since he and Gibbs had started up to New York.

"You won't."

"You didn't think I would when I couldn't shoot Archer, either, but I still did."

"You've learned from that."

"Have I? Good for me," Tim said in a low voice. He was trying not to be pessimistic, but his stomach was starting to tie up in knots again. More and more, the closer they got to New York. Louis would lawyer up. He'd have a great lawyer, someone who would be able to poke so many holes in Tim's explanation that they wouldn't convict Louis of stealing a paperclip, let alone committing murder.

_Thwack!_

"What was _that_ for?" Tim asked.

"Stop thinking that you're going to fail."

Tim furrowed his brow. "How did you–?"

"You get the same expression on your face every time."

Tim smiled a little sheepishly.

"I don't want to..." He trailed off. That was the wrong thing to say. It wasn't like Gibbs was his father, and what he'd almost said would sound too much like a kid.

"What?"

"Nothing." No way was Gibbs going to hear Tim say that he was afraid of disappointing his boss. He wasn't a child in need of his dad's approval. He just had to do his job. "You know, I don't really make an impressive figure right now, Boss," he said, hoping to divert Gibbs' attention.

"You're fine."

Tim wasn't sure he'd succeeded in distracting Gibbs, but he was glad that he wasn't pursuing it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I have a black eye, barely healing bruises on my face from the first assault, and my nose is bent out of shape. I'm going to instill fear in the superstitious criminal mind."

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Didn't know that was part of our job."

"I don't want to be there, showing how well he did in beating me up again."

"You need to be there, to show him that he didn't win. Doesn't matter how far you fell. You're up again and facing him...with backup."

"I'm not up very far, Boss."

"He doesn't have to know that," Gibbs said with a bit of a smile.

Gibbs' phone rang and he answered.

"Yeah."

He listened quietly, and Tim wondered who it was.

"He's going to make an official statement?"

It must be Tony or Ziva.

"Good. Do it." He hung up.

"What is it?" Tim asked, almost afraid to know.

"You remember a Charles Darryl?"

"From high school? Yeah."

"He trustworthy?"

"If he gave an alibi to Louis and David, obviously not."

"Other than that," Gibbs said, with a warning in his voice.

Tim swallowed. It was like his filter had been disengaged. All the things he would normally bite back were just tumbling out of his mouth without thought.

"He wasn't a friend...not of mine or of Louis and David. He was one of those kids who just kept his head down and got through it. Why?"

"He's said that he lied about Dietrich and Larson being with him, that they threatened him and everyone else. Larson organized everything."

"No big surprise there," Tim said. "David always did the planning."

"We're putting an end to this."

"Are you sure about that? It's never been over before."

"Yes."

Tim took a breath. "I hope you're right, Boss...because I don't want to lose to them again."

"You won't. Not this time."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Ziva waited outside of David's place of employment. Based on what had been said about him, David was the planner, and Louis was the doer, but Louis wouldn't stand by and take all the blame himself. They were hoping that he'd give up David as his partner in crime, but at this point, they were arresting Louis for his role in the sabotage of Tim's car. They didn't have anything besides Tim's assertion that Louis couldn't do it on his own (and the likelihood of that assertion being true), but they didn't want David to skip town, either. If his sense of self-preservation was that good, he wouldn't wait around to be arrested.

"I hope he runs and I get to tackle him," Ziva said. "I would not be gentle."

"I can believe that," Tony said. "I'd rather have him just stand there with his mouth open, wondering how McGee got the best of him."

Ziva grinned. "I will take that. ...but it would be more satisfying to beat him senseless. Run around is fair play, yes?"

"Turn about," Tony corrected. "You should really study your idioms."

"English idioms make no sense," Ziva said.

"That's what makes them _idioms_. Are you saying that Israeli ones do? Like what?"

Ziva paused for a moment.

"You do not speak Hebrew. You would not understand what I said."

"That's a cop out," Tony said. "You just realized that if you translated Hebrew sayings into English, they'd make just as little sense!"

"I did not say that."

"You didn't have to. I know that's what you were thinking."

Ziva rolled her eyes and refocused her attention on the shop.

"Would you have thought that McGee could make someone hate him this much?" she asked.

"No. He's too...normal and unoffensive."

"Unoffensive?" Ziva repeated with a smile.

"Well, can _you_ imagine McGee making anyone mad enough to try to kill him? Twice?"

"No. I cannot...but these two men have, and they will not get a third chance."

"Exactly," Tony said with a nod.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs and Tim walked into the building where Louis worked. Gibbs could see how tense Tim was, how much he both wanted and _didn't_ want to be there. However, unlike with Archer, Gibbs knew that Tim needed to be here and that there wouldn't be a shootout when they took Louis into custody. He was tired of the bullies destroying Tim's confidence. It was time to rebuild it.

They walked to the front desk. The security guard on duty raised an eyebrow at their approach. It was patently obvious that they didn't belong here.

"Can I help you?"

Gibbs pulled out his badge and ID.

"NCIS Special Agents Gibbs and McGee. Where is Louis Dietrich's office?"

"Uh..." He looked down and then up. "Third floor. Office 325."

"Thank you. Don't call up."

"Do you need any help?"

"We'll be fine."

Gibbs made sure the guard knew they were carrying and then, they headed up to the office. Tim's tension increased the closer they got to the office.

"Doesn't matter if you're nervous, McGee," Gibbs said in a low voice. "Just don't let _him_ know it."

Tim nodded and said nothing.

They walked to the door. They could hear Louis talking loudly inside. Gibbs smiled a little and opened the door without knocking.

"Louis Dietrich?"

Louis turned around.

"I'm busy. Come back later."

"I can't do that, but I'd recommend that you tell whoever is on the phone that you can't talk."

"Who do you think you are?" Louis demanded.

He apparently hadn't noticed Tim at all yet. All his fury was focused on Gibbs.

"He's NCIS Special Agent Gibbs," Tim said suddenly.

Louis turned his attention onto Tim and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm NCIS Special Agent McGee, and you're under arrest."

"What?"

Gibbs smiled, privately relieved that Tim had actually done something on his own.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Dietrich," Gibbs said, "for attempted murder of a federal agent."

Louis looked at Gibbs and then looked at Tim again. Tim, for his part, didn't flinch. Gibbs could see a hint of fear in his eyes. It was hard to let go of that kind of feeling after so many years of it.

"You have the right to an attorney, but you'll have to tell him that you'll be in DC."

"What?"

"The crime was committed in the DC Metro area, against a federal agent based in DC."

He pulled out his cuffs and recited the Miranda warning verbatim, just to be sure that Louis didn't try to pull something to get a release. Tim said nothing more, but Gibbs could tell he was clenching his jaw.

He just hoped it would be a smooth drive back to DC. This was the beginning of getting Tim safe and, more importantly, getting him the justice that had been denied all those years ago.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Hey, I just thought of something," Tony said.

"That must be a first," Ziva said, barely glancing at him.

"Ha ha. I'm serious," Tony said. "Okay, so we're getting these guys for sabotaging the Probie's car."

"We should not let him give up his car."

"What?" Tony asked, momentarily diverted.

"Abby said that McGee was thinking that there was no point in fixing his car since people hate him because of his book and he has only had trouble. If we do not force him to fix his car, it will be letting these men win."

"And us, you know."

"What?"

"It'll be McGee letting us matter more than what he wants. We've been acting like idiots over this book. I think we had the right to be mad at the beginning, but we let it go on longer than we should have. He deserves to celebrate the book being popular...even if it's bad imitations of us."

"We did everything in that book."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"If we assume that the McGregor character is McGee, then, he did almost nothing. The heroes are us and Gibbs, not McGregor. McGee did not make himself the hero, not as a teenager or an adult. Do you think that means something?"

"Heck, I don't know. I'm not Ducky."

"But we cannot let him give it up. It is important to him."

"Okay, okay. I think we should focus on getting these guys off the street, first."

"Very well. So...what were you saying?"

"Uh...what _was_ I saying?"

"You said that you thought of something."

Tony tried to get back on track.

"I thought of something...oh, yeah! We're getting them for sabotaging McGee's car, but if they did that, they've got to be the ones who beat him up before, and we shouldn't let them get away with that."

"They had an alibi."

"Yeah, but they did for that girl's death, too, and it turns out they don't. The three people we got in touch with all admitted that they were told what to say."

"The man who gave them an alibi is not a teenager. He is a successful businessman. Why would _he_ be forced to give them an alibi?"

"Who knows? But they couldn't have been in the restaurant _and_ beating up McGee at the same time."

Ziva looked back at the building.

"You are saying that we should talk to him again."

"Yeah, I am."

"And how will we get him to tell the truth if he was lying before?"

"By telling him that Dietrich's been arrested for attempted murder. I'll bet he didn't know why he was giving an alibi, but this guy seems to take pleasure in threatening people. He probably doesn't even have to say anything anymore. It's understood."

"And if it does not work?"

"Then, I'll be tempted to turn him over to you," Tony said with a grin.

"I do not think my style of interrogation would be right to use on a restaurant owner."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I'm going to get someone from Lovitz' team over here and we'll go talk to Emilio."

"Very well. It will be more interesting than sitting here."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Colin was clearly evaluating the situation. Could he run and get away? Tibbs was a lot older, but he was a cop. He couldn't just throw what he had in his hand away. Tibbs would find it eventually._

"_It...It wasn't me. I didn't kill her!" he said, his voice sounding quavery. It was an act. It was all an act, but he was a pretty good actor._

"_If it wasn't you, then, who was it?"_

"_Lawrence killed her! It was Lawrence!"_

"_And you're here because–?"_

"_He made me! It was his idea to kill her! I was just..."_

"_Just taking advantage of the situation. Hand over the chip."_

_Colin hesitated._

"_I'm not gonna ask again," Tibbs said with a knowing smile. Colin was going to do what he wanted. He'd already given up Lawrence. It would be over as soon as they arrested Lawrence and he started pointing fingers. Scum like this had no loyalty. They were young to be scum, but the corruption was clear. These weren't innocent kids in over their heads. They were criminals, on track to being the kinds of lowlifes that Tibbs saw far too often. Best to cut off the monster's head young._

"_How did you know I'd be here?"_

"_I didn't. If you'd stayed away, you might have got away with it. ...except for John."_

_Colin's eyes darkened with hatred at the mention of John Ballot. This was more than resentment at greater intelligence and more opportunities. It was a deep loathing. Colin hated John with the intensity of the fires of Hell._

"_That little..."_

"_Give it to me," Tibbs said. "Hand it over, and maybe, just maybe, you won't spend the rest of your miserable life behind bars."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim felt his hands clench into fists. That was the fifth time Louis had nudged his seat with his feet. It wasn't painful by any means. It was annoying...and Tim was irked at himself for getting wound up by something so juvenile. They still had more than two hours to go before they got back to DC and Tim wasn't sure that he could keep himself from pulling his gun and shooting Louis in the face. Sure, he'd go to prison for the rest of his life...but it might be worth it. Maybe not in the face. Maybe in the gut and he could bleed out and die. That was a much more satisfying image, actually.

Gibbs glanced at him and pulled off at a rest area. Then, he gave Tim a significant look and Tim got out of the car. He heard Gibbs tell Louis to get comfortable and then Gibbs was out of the car, too.

"Stop it, McGee."

"Stop what, Boss?" Tim asked.

"You don't have to let him get to you."

"Maybe I don't, but he is."

"Well, deal with it, McGee," Gibbs said seriously. "You are an NCIS agent. You are not a teenager. You know how this works. Ziva let herself get needled and a man died. You are not going to copy her."

Tim laughed a little...and then, shook his head.

"You shouldn't have brought me, Boss. I want to see him arrested, but I can't..."

"Don't start that again. I don't care what you think you can't do. Suck it up and do your job!"

"And how do I do that, Boss?" Tim asked. It was a real question. He'd never been confronted with this kind of problem before. ...and the other times cases had become personal for him, he hadn't really handled them very well.

Gibbs seemed to sense it. He gave Tim a hard look before smiling a little.

"You remember that you hold all the cards and all he's trying to do is get you to give him a few. You don't want to do that; so don't let him take them."

"He's always had them, Boss."

"Well, he doesn't now. Get used to that. I don't want to have to do this every time you have a problem."

"Yeah, I know."

"And don't even _think_ about using this as another evidence of your failures."

Tim laughed.

"Pretty predictable, huh?"

Gibbs didn't look away.

"You're never predictable, McGee. That's the problem."

"What? I'm totally predictable. I don't do anything exciting, Boss."

Gibbs smiled a little.

"You wrote a best-selling novel that turned out to be based on an actual crime from when you were a teenager. You think that's predictable?"

"You knew about it."

"Because I saw it in a store and I wasn't going to bring it up if you weren't. And you didn't. You kept being successful a secret from everyone."

"I told my family."

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay. But beyond the book, I'm really boring. Why would you think I'm not predictable?"

"Because you don't do what people expect of you. Why do you think these guys focused on you?"

"Because I'm a wimp and an easy target."

"McGee, I can save up the head slaps."

"That's the reason, Boss. No matter what is true now, that was true back then. I was a wimp and an easy target. That's all the reason they needed."

"Larson told Tony and Ziva that he was jealous of you."

"He was?"

"That's what he said."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean it's true. David would say anything if it meant they got off his back." Tim cleared his throat. "What do you want me to do?"

"Don't talk to him. Don't acknowledge him. I don't want you to give him _any_ satisfaction. If he goes too far, _I'll_ rein him in. Not you. Got it?"

"Yeah, Boss. I got it."

They got back into the car.

"Finished your little heart-to-heart pep talk?" Louis asked. "You're wasting a lot of my time and in my job time is money."

"You have more to worry about than money," Gibbs said.

"If you have enough, you don't have to worry about anything. Right, McGeek?"

Louis kicked Tim's seat again. Tim started chewing on the inside of his cheek...but he didn't say a word.

"You put even a scuff on the seat and you'll pay for it," Gibbs said.

Louis scoffed. "A government sedan? I make more than this thing costs in a week."

Gibbs looked back at Louis.

"I didn't say you'd pay in money."

Tim suppressed a smile. Louis had met his match in bluster. Gibbs wouldn't do anything...probably, but Louis didn't know that.

Louis stopped talking, and Tim didn't have any more kicks against his seat.

As they headed back to DC, Tim thought about how little he'd actually done. He'd crashed his car. He'd been beat up. He'd had a couple of meltdowns. Others were fighting his battles for him, and he hated that. He knew that he had to take a back seat in the investigation. His personal involvement meant that he couldn't lead the way, but still, he didn't like that he wasn't really doing anything. Everything was being done _to_ him. It wasn't right.

_What do I do?_

A new idea came into his mind as they got closer to DC. It was time to reclaim his life. Gibbs had told him over and over that he wasn't a failure, that his bullies didn't have to have the upper hand. Tim wasn't sure he believed it, but Ducky had told him that there was an indication of murder. Murder. Melissa had been murdered, and Tim knew who had done it. He was going to prove it. He honestly didn't care so much about David and Louis paying for what they'd done to him. He wanted justice for Melissa. He could still hear all the things her father had said to him...when there had been no Tibbs to intervene. No one had intervened, and he'd lied to his parents about the source of the bruise.

He had a goal. It was the same as he'd had when he'd first joined NCIS...and realized just how little there was to go on.

When they got back, let the others worry about his car. Tim would go back to the original crime. That was what really mattered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony and Ziva walked into Emilio's Italian restaurant.

"We're not open!"

"Good. We're not buying," Tony said.

Emilio himself came out from the back.

"Oh, you're those Navy people. I remember. Agent DiNozzo and...uh..."

"Officer David," Ziva said.

"Of course, of course," Emilio said. He sounded nervous. "You have more questions? I thought it was pretty thorough the last time you were here."

"Oh, it was," Tony said.

"Except for the part where you lied to us," Ziva added. "We do not like it when people lie to us."

"Lie to you?" Emilio asked. "I don't know what you mean."

"He must have a lot on his mind," Tony said.

"Yes, like how much he was paid to lie for one of his customers?"

"Paid?" Tony said with a calculating look. "Maybe, he was paid. Threatened, possibly."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emilio said. "I have work to do. You can see yourselves out."

He turned to leave, but Ziva quickly moved around in front of him.

"We will see ourselves out...when we are done."

"But we're not done," Tony added.

"What do you want?"

"Louis Dietrich," Tony said.

No question. Emilio was feeling the pressure.

"What about him?" he asked.

"He tried to kill someone."

Emilio paled rather dramatically.

"K-Kill someone? He killed someone?"

"He tried. He didn't succeed," Tony said.

"Was he in your restaurant when you told us he was?" Ziva asked.

Emilio sighed and sat down on a chair.

"He was here...but earlier in the day. He left his cell phone and his little friend told me exactly when to call."

"Call who?"

"Louis' wife. Some ditzy lady who does whatever he tells her to do. All I had to do was press call. Wait for her to pick up and then hang up."

"Why did he tell you to do it?"

"He didn't have to tell me why. I figured he was cheating on her."

"What did you think we were asking about?"

"I do what Louis tells me to do."

"Why? Are you paid?"

"No. He pays for his meals when he comes here."

"Has he threatened you?" Ziva asked.

"No. Not really."

"Not really?" Tony asked. "Meaning?"

"Have you ever known someone who scares you, not because he does anything but because he...doesn't do anything?"

"I do not understand," Ziva said.

"Louis started coming here a couple of years ago. The first time he asked me to do something for him, he said it would be worth my while. I had to hold a table for him all evening. I got a big tip, but something about the way he talked...it was a threat, not that I could tell you exactly why. He kept coming. He spends a lot of money. He's a good tipper. I wish he didn't come, but I don't dare tell him to stop. From a business standpoint, that's not a way to make money. I don't know what he'd do to me, personally. Louis...wants to win, no matter what the contest is. I don't think anyone has ever told him no. ...and I wasn't going to be the first one to do it."

Tony and Ziva exchanged glances. Everyone described Louis in the same way.

"I didn't know he was going to try to kill someone. I don't care for his patronage, but I don't think of him as a murderer."

"When did he get his phone back?"

"The next day."

They finished up, and left the restaurant.

"It's like the whole story was being held together with little bits of string and as soon as we tug on the line, everything falls," Tony said.

"That was a complex comparison. I am impressed," Ziva said with a smile.

"Thanks."

"It is surprising...but no one asks the questions, do they. They seem to accept the way things are. We have done that, too. We assumed and did not let McGee's explanation mean anything."

"Well, I still think naming his characters after us was a bad idea."

Ziva smiled. "As do I, but I am flattered that he thinks so much of our abilities."

"Well, let's get back to watching Larson. If he gets away, Gibbs will kill us."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had become preoccupied on the rest of the trip back. He didn't want to hint that there was anything wrong, not with Louis in the backseat, but Tim was almost docile when they reached NCIS. Normally, Gibbs would be glad of it, but in the last few weeks, Tim's reactions hadn't been what he expected, and it made Gibbs a little worried that he was going to do something else stupid.

He took Louis to holding while Tim reported in.

"You've wasted a lot of time," Louis said. "You can't pin anything on me."

Gibbs just smiled.

"I've heard that before," he said. "Most of the people who said that are in prison."

"I haven't picked on McGeek since high school, and the little twerp deserved it back then."

"Oh really?" Gibbs asked. This was his first real interaction with Louis.

Louis scoffed. "There are rules, and if you don't play by the rules, you get smacked down. He didn't play by the rules."

"What rules were those?"

"There's a hierarchy, and you don't violate it. Sure, it seems silly now, but in high school, it matters. I didn't get where I am today by sitting back and letting some nerd show me up. He got smacked down, and he knows he deserved it. After high school, we went our separate ways. That's how life goes."

"Then, why did you come back into it? He didn't look for you. You came to him. You came here."

"Old times. I was in the area anyway, visiting a friend."

Gibbs checked him in.

"We'll see. You can call your lawyer. When he gets here, we'll get started."

"I'll be out of here before you can even think."

Gibbs smirked and leaned in close.

"I think pretty fast...but McGee can think circles around you. Sounds like he always could."

The anger in Louis' eyes was completely out of proportion to the insult, and Gibbs was actually surprised by it. Was he really that arrogant that he couldn't take something so mild?

This was a dangerous man. If he had seen him after talking to Detective Warner the first time, he would have _known_ that it wasn't over. Louis was the kind of man who didn't just carry a grudge. He encouraged the grudge to get worse. If they hadn't arrested him, he wouldn't be surprised if Louis didn't just decide to take a gun and shoot Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

David had noticed the people watching the shop. It made him a little nervous, but he didn't show it. He wasn't going to give them any hint that he was guilty. There was time to plan. If they were ready to arrest him, they would have done so already. Louis hadn't called yet, and he would. Still, maybe it was time to cut his losses. If only Louis had just stopped with the first failed attempt. He was such an idiot.

If only Tim hadn't written that book. Time had passed. The whole thing was over. Why bring it up again?

Really, this whole thing from Melissa's death to David's current predicament was Tim's fault. If Tim hadn't tried to rock the boat, Melissa wouldn't have decided to go to her father. Once that happened, it would have all come out. As long as it stayed just in the high school, it didn't matter. Tim was such a wimp, too.

"Hey, David, if you're trying to set the car on fire with your eyes, I think you're getting close."

David forced a smile on his face.

"Just practicing."

"You want me to finish it?"

"No, I've got it. Thanks."

He lay down and rolled back under the Jaguar that had come in that morning.

And he started to make some plans of his own. Plans that didn't involve Louis at all.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tim grabbed copies of everything Tony and Ziva had gathered about Melissa's death. He snuck down to Autopsy and did the same. He needed to know what evidence there was. He'd looked once, but it had been a long time. Was it just his own obsession, an attempt to make sense out of something senseless? Maybe, it was. Maybe, he was acting like a teenager still. Gibbs had told him to start doing his job, to deal with it. It was time to do that, and he couldn't if he didn't know what was really there.

Since he couldn't be involved in the investigation into who had tried to kill _him_, Tim figured that no one would miss him if he hid out in the conference room and tried to reason his way through something he had _never_ been able to reason through. The whole situation had been too hard for him as a teenager. Without anyone believing him, he had felt the desperation to _make_ someone listen. It hadn't helped his case. Tim could acknowledge that. He could admit that he'd only made things harder.

Even now, years later, he felt the anger and helplessness tie his stomach up in knots. He wasn't happy about being forced to think about it all again. Gibbs had made it impossible to set it aside and so he had to work through it...without interference from anyone else. Well-meaning though they were, they couldn't really understand Tim's feelings about this. They couldn't understand how it felt to have to accept failure time after time.

He spread the papers out on the table. He told himself he wouldn't look at the pictures, the photos from the crimes scene, from the autopsy. ...but he couldn't not look. It was so awful to see Melissa cut open. He knew it was a necessity, but it made him ill.

Then, he forced himself to turn away from the photos, and he went back to the rest of the evidence. It was better to look at the words.

Ducky had been making notes about the discrepancies he'd found. There were so many. How could he possibly be wrong? The hyoid was fractured and Ducky had noted that it wasn't common in hanging deaths. The ligature marks were consistent with throttling and then hanging afterwards. The abrasions from the rope had marred any marks from hands. No rope fibers on her hands as would be expected if she had tied knots herself.

Her body said murder. The evidence supported what he'd always said. It was gratifying to know that. ...even if it didn't fix anything.

Then, he looked at the write-ups Tony and Ziva had made about talking to the people who had given David and Louis alibis before. The three they'd found had all admitted to being told what to say. No big surprise there...but wait. They'd been told what to say...by David, not Louis. That made Tim pause. David always made the plans. Tim knew that. Louis wasn't smart enough or patient enough to plan things out. David was. ...but David never _did _anything more than help Louis. He didn't do things. He hung back and let Louis do it all. ...which meant that Louis could take the blame if things went wrong.

Why had he changed on that night? What had made things different? David had too much a sense of self-preservation to just let Louis _force_ him to take control.

A thought began to form in his mind. It was difficult to conceive because he had never considered the possibility. It went against every experience he'd had with Louis and David.

In _Deep Six_ he had written the murder in a certain way. Lawrence had killed Sandra with Colin helping hold her down. Then, Colin had tried to clean up after her death so that he could hide the fact that Sandra had seen Colin and Lawrence stealing for some kind of pseudo-terrorist group. That was the necessity when he wasn't going to reveal what had happened to Melissa and when he couldn't think of any other reason for her death.

The fact that these people were saying that _David_ had told them what to say, not Louis...it was a change from how David operated. Why?

Could the roles have reversed in some way?

Tim felt the churning in his stomach increase.

What if David had killed Melissa, not Louis?

But why?

Louis was the one who had raped her. Melissa had told him, and Tim trusted her. Louis was the one who didn't think he'd have to face consequences. He was the one who enjoyed the power he had over others. He was the physical one. Why would David kill her?

Louis had _wanted_ to kill him but hadn't succeeded. He'd tried twice and failed both times. David would have had to have helped him, but apparently it didn't matter to him as much.

So why Melissa?

It was something making him think, re-evaluate what he'd thought he knew.

Was he right, now? If so...why had David killed Melissa?

Why?

Then, he remembered something else, something that only one other person knew, something Tim himself had tried to forget...almost as much as he had tried to forget how he had seen Melissa in the tree.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where's Tim?" Abby asked.

Gibbs looked around, as if surprised that he couldn't see Tim there.

"Gibbs! You brought back one of the bad guys and you don't know where Tim is?"

She sounded affronted.

"He's here, Abby, and Dietrich is in holding."

"But how is _Tim_ feeling?" she asked. "It's been so hard for him lately. I mean, he's been letting us _see_ how bothered he is. Now, they're here. Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Gibbs said.

"But where is he?"

"I'm right here, Abbs," Tim said, walking out from the direction of the men's room.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"I'm fine, Boss," he said. "Just thought that I should be...out of the way while Louis was...being...taken care of."

Abby ran over and hugged Tim tightly, but Gibbs could tell Tim wasn't telling the whole truth. He looked troubled about something.

"Are you feeling any better?" Abby asked.

"Yeah, Abbs. I am."

"I told you we would get them! I told you we could do it!"

"Yes, you did. But you know we've only got Louis."

"You said he'd give up Larson," Gibbs pointed out.

"He will," Tim said, and at the mention of David, he seemed bothered again.

Tim was hiding something, but Gibbs decided he didn't want to get into it with Abby there.

"His lawyer here yet?" Tim asked.

"Not yet. He will be."

"Yeah. He'll be a good lawyer. Nothing but the best for Louis," Tim said with some bitterness.

"And it won't matter," Abby said, "because we've got _evidence_, and we won't let it disappear."

"Have you heard anything from Tony and Ziva?"

"They went and talked to the guy who gave Larson and Dietrich an alibi the night you were assaulted."

He let out a humorless laugh.

"And he said that they weren't really there. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Tim echoed.

"I can't believe how easy it is for them to get people to do what they say."

"Not them. Him," Tim corrected. "Louis."

But again, he seemed bothered.

"I still can't believe it," Abby said. "It doesn't make any sense that a jerk like that would be able to force people to lie for him."

"It makes sense. It sucks, but it makes sense," Tim said.

Abby hugged him again.

"Abby," Gibbs said.

"I know. I know. I have work to do, but we're getting there, Tim. We're going to be even better than the characters in your book."

Tim smiled.

Abby hurried off to the lab, leaving Gibbs to stare at Tim.

"Do you have anything you want me to do, Boss?" Tim asked.

"What have you _been_ doing?"

Tim hedged.

"McGee."

"I can't help out with the case...since it's about me, and all. So..."

"What, McGee?"

"I...made copies of everything everyone else has been doing about Melissa's...about how she died, and..."

"And?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow.

"And since you don't have anything else for me to do, I figured I might as well do _something_."

"And are you _really_ doing something?"

"I don't know yet."

"McGee," Gibbs said, "if you find something...you'd better not go off on your own. You're part of a team."

"Even about something that happened so long ago?"

"Yes. If you find something..."

Tim swallowed.

"I'll tell you."

"Good."

Tim nodded and then walked away. Gibbs watched him go. There was something going on in Tim's mind and it was a little irritating that he wasn't sharing, but maybe there really was nothing yet. Still, he was worried that Tim might fall back into the depression he'd had before. He'd have to keep an eye out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There he goes," Tony said.

"You think he will head home?"

"I don't know where else he'd go...unless he's noticed us."

"He has not shown that at all."

"Some people are good at hiding," Tony said. "You know?"

Ziva rolled her eyes and Tony leered a little.

"Are you going to follow him or stare?"

"I could do both."

"Please, do not."

Tony put the car in gear and followed David as he drove. He went home, got out and walked into a small townhome. Whatever he was doing, he gave no indication of realizing he'd been followed.

"I do not trust him," Ziva said. "He is too cold. He would not show if he saw us or not."

Tony nodded.

"Yeah. We'll just need to watch."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs sat down across from Louis and his lawyer.

"You have put an unfair burden on my client," the lawyer said. "Taking him from New York City, all the way down here, and on the basis of such flimsy accusations as you have."

"Flimsy accusations?" Gibbs asked with a smile. "You don't know what we have on your client, do you."

The lawyer was good. He didn't even hesitate.

"What you have is circumstantial. You have an accusation from someone who bears a grudge against my client and has since they were teenagers. You have a man who has been trying to find a way to accuse him ever since..."

"...ever since your client broke into Agent McGee's car and tampered with the car's computer?"

"My client is a trader on Wall Street. He is not a computer person, nor does he know a lot about cars."

"No, but he knows someone who just happens to be an expert at exotic car repair."

"Then, why aren't you talking to the car expert instead of harassing my client?"

Gibbs smiled.

"Because the car expert didn't leave his fingerprints on the computer in Agent McGee's car. Your client did."

The lawyer looked at Louis who was surprised.

"Impossible," Louis said.

"Your client was in Agent McGee's car, fiddling with the car's computer. No one should be doing something like that if they aren't experts...unless they were trying to change the programming."

He slid the photo of Tim's crushed car across the table.

"This is the result of your client's fiddling. We found the changed program. We have his fingerprints. He tried to kill a federal agent."

"You don't have a motive."

"Yes, I do."

"And what is that?"

Gibbs slid a copy of _Deep Six_ across the table.

"A book?"

"Not just any book, is it, Mr. Dietrich," Gibbs said, looking at Louis. "Agent McGee told us about your visit, your anger about the characters in his book, and the security guard on duty can vouch for your uninvited appearance and the lack of friendship in your greeting. You can talk about Agent McGee's accusations all you want, but that doesn't change the evidence we have. You broke into his car. You tampered with his car's computer, changed the programming, and almost killed him."

"Hey, it wasn't just me! I couldn't have programmed his computer myself."

"Louis..."

"Shut up," Louis snarled. "I don't know how to program anything."

"It's your fingerprint."

"David is the one who told me what to do! I couldn't have done it myself!"

"Louis!"

"I am _not_ going down by myself," Louis said. "I couldn't have done anything without David."

"David?" Gibbs asked.

"David Larson. He's your car expert. He told me what to do."

"And why did you do it, then?"

Louis stopped talking. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of deal do we get?" the lawyer asked.

"That's not my department," Gibbs said. "I'm not a lawyer. Are you willing to go down alone, Mr. Dietrich? Because you're going down no matter what you say about Larson."

Gibbs got to his feet and started for the door.

"Wait! I'm not taking all the blame for this!"

Gibbs smiled and turned back. He walked to the table and sat down.

"If you're not going to take all the blame, what blame is there to spread around? You talk. I listen...and you'd better not be lying to me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat in the conference room. He'd looked through everything multiple times. He couldn't see any other way of interpreting it.

So what now?

He couldn't let this go unaddressed. He _had_ to do something about it.

...but he also remembered Gibbs saying that he should talk to him if he found something.

...and that he was part of a team.

What he wanted to do was run off and confront David. He'd faced off with them alone before. It didn't have anything to do with NCIS, with the team, with anyone except for him and Melissa...and the man who had killed her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

David hung up the phone, rolling his eyes. Louis didn't realize how impotent he sounded while trying to threaten him. He had insisted that David get him out of this. David had promised to think of something.

...but of course, he hadn't said _what_ he'd be thinking of. It wasn't about how to help Louis.

He had a bag packed and stowed in his trunk, and he had a getaway planned. Since it was clear that Louis was about to spill his guts, it was time to leave.

There was a knock on his door, and he approached it warily. He looked through the peephole and then opened the door.

"Tim McGee. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Why? You here to arrest me?"

"No. I'm not. I don't have my gun. I don't have my badge. You can search me if you want," Tim said. "I'm not here to arrest you."

David stood back and let Tim in. He shouldn't. He should get rid of him and get out of here...but why was he here? David could see that the assaults had left their mark. There were still bruises on Tim's face, and it gave him a feeling of satisfaction. However, he wanted to know why Tim had bothered to come here.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I had some questions."

"You already have Louis in custody," David said and chuckled a little. "He's already called me and demanded that I get him out of yet another scrape. I told him that we should have left well enough alone, but Louis is too much of an idiot to listen to reason."

"My questions aren't about Louis. Aren't you worried?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," David said. "I'm not worried for Louis, if that's what you mean."

"I don't get you," Tim said, and the old judgmental expression crossed his face, the one that David had often wanted to smack off him.

"Why? You think I should be like you were in high school?" David asked. "You think I should have let Louis beat me down like he beat you down?"

"At least I wasn't selling myself," Tim said.

David sneered. Tim really hadn't changed at all.

"Yes, because the great Tim McGee would rather let himself get smacked down time after time...for his principles. Oh, please. You're the one who refused to accept the way things were in high school. All you did was give Louis an outlet for his...baser inclinations."

"I think _you_ did that."

"I just helped him get away with it," David said. "I chose to attach myself to the worst person in school so that I wasn't a target. Once school was over, I was fine and I hadn't been beat up once."

"But you still seem to be at Louis' beck and call," Tim said.

"Only when I want to be."

"That's why you did what he said about me?"

"That's what this is about, isn't it. Louis' attempts to punish you for the book."

"I don't care about that."

_That_ was a surprise, although David tried not to show it. What else would Tim be coming here for if it wasn't about that?

"You don't?"

"No. Louis has been arrested. He's not getting away with it. I don't care about that. You guys failed. Twice. All that shows is that I'm stronger. I don't need to come here for that."

"Then, what in the world are you here for? You think we're going to suddenly start bonding now that big bad Louis is out of the way?"

"No," Tim said. "I have no interest in that, either."

David was a lot more intrigued by Tim's motives than he thought he'd be.

"So...are you going to tell me or make me guess?"

"You killed Melissa," Tim said without any preamble.

"What?" David asked.

"I was wrong. When I wrote _Deep Six_, I thought it was Louis. Louis was always the one who did things, but it wasn't him, was it. It was you. You killed her."

David smiled a little. It was a humorless smile, though. It figured that Tim would still be harping on what had happened in high school.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because you're the one who told everyone what to say. People are taking back the alibis they gave you and they all said the same thing. _You_ told them what the story was. If you took control, you had to have a vested interest in making sure it was right. Otherwise, you would have told Louis what to do and if it didn't work, too bad."

David hated the sound of Tim's voice. He hated everything about the man, and he had chosen to forget high school and everything that had happened. Why couldn't Tim let the past be past?

"So...you must think you know why," David said with a sneer. "You're one of those _authors_. Right, Mr. Gemcity? You want to have a special revelatory scene where the guilty party confesses to his crime? You're the writer. Why don't you tell _me_ what the deal is?"

"She rejected you," Tim said.

"Oh, really? What gives you that idea?"

"Something her dad said to me."

"I didn't think that you and Mr. Banger were on very good terms," David said and took pleasure at Tim's wince.

"We weren't," Tim said with some degree of bravado. "He said that he could never understand why Melissa picked me over you."

"Well, there's something I can agree with," David said. "I think almost everyone in the school knew about what he did to you. No adults, though. As usual."

"That's just because he didn't know what a colossal jerk you are," Tim said. "And Melissa wasn't choosing me over you. She just wasn't choosing _you_...and you know why. After you helped Louis rape her, I don't know how you could ever _think_ that you had a chance."

"I didn't do it," David said.

Now, it was Tim's turn to laugh incredulously.

"It wouldn't have been rape if she'd just said yes."

"But she _didn't_!" Tim said, angrily. "She didn't and you did nothing to stop Louis from what he was doing."

"This was all years ago, Tim. You really should stop living in the past."

David took pleasure in seeing Tim get angry. He wasn't in control, and that meant that David had the upper hand.

"That's all Melissa has because of you."

"It's your fault, Tim. It's all your fault."

"_My_ fault? You killed her!"

"The only reason she died was because you convinced her to tell her dad about what happened."

"I hadn't," Tim said. "We hadn't decided what to do. We were talking about it, but we didn't know what to do."

"That's not what she told me," David said. "That night."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_After what you and Louis did to me?" Melissa asked._

"_It'd never happen again," David said._

"_It's never going to happen again, anyway," Melissa said and started to walk away._

_David grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around._

"_Tim was right," she said. "We can't let people like you determine what's right and wrong."_

"_Tim? This is about the nerd?"_

"_No," Melissa said. "David, you always think that you can get what you want, but you can't. I didn't want happened to me, and you were a big part of it." Her eyes started to fill with tears. "David, I was raped! Because you didn't get what you wanted. Tim was right. I should have told my dad from the beginning, and I'm doing that now. He told me I should have gone out with you, but he won't anymore."_

_Melissa pulled her arm away from David and started to walk away again._

"_No," David said._

_He grabbed her again._

"_Let me go, David," she said, and there was fear in her eyes._

"_No."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"If you hadn't convinced her to tell her dad, Melissa would still be alive," David said. "It's your fault, Tim. It's _all_ your fault."

"Except for the part where you killed her," Tim said.

David laughed again. "I think Louis still can't figure out how I suddenly became in charge. He's so used to being on top that he can't even comprehend when he's just a lackey. I needed him to help me get her into the tree. Then, I got him to call you. I figured that you'd either be blamed or else they'd assume she committed suicide. You taking the fall would have been better...since her death was your fault."

"How could you do that?" Tim asked. "She was an innocent girl. How could you? I never could understand why killing her was necessary."

"Give it up, Tim. Like I said, don't live in the past. I don't. I live in the present and plan for the future."

David walked over to his bag and opened it casually. He smiled and pulled out the gun he'd packed as a precaution. He pointed it at Tim.

"I make plans because I can see the future. I don't worry about the past. I wasn't going to kill you, Tim. Until Louis insisted that we do something, I would have just been annoyed and let it go. You didn't have any evidence, just like in high school. No one listened to you, then, and there was no reason to expect anyone to take more out of your pitiful book than a lame attempt to shout louder. Louis just can't accept insult, even when the insult is an expression of helplessness. Usually, I could talk him down, but you always could get under his skin. I don't know what it was about you. You're such a wimp, Tim...but he always let you bug him."

"So you're going to kill me now? Why? If it doesn't matter, why?"

"It _didn't_ matter. Now, it matters because I don't want to leave a trail...and you're part of the trail. You shouldn't have come here alone, Tim." He lifted the gun and took off the safety.

To his surprise, Tim just smiled at him.

"Who said I came here alone?"

David just stared for a moment. Then, the door burst open and people rushed inside shouting.

"NCIS! Drop your weapon!"

David heard them, but his attention was all on Tim. How had he done this? He just stood there, gun aimed at Tim, Tim staring at him with an expression of fierce triumph on his face.

"I told you before, David. I'm not a kid anymore, and I have a team watching my back."

He lifted his shirt and revealed a wire.

"Recording every word you said," Tim said. "There was evidence, but nothing to say who did it besides me...and now, you."

"Drop your weapon, Larson," one of the other agents said.

"That's entrapment!" David said.

"No. Entrapment is when law enforcement entices a person to commit a crime in order to catch them. You'd already committed the crime. I just helped you admit it."

"Put down the gun," the agent said again.

"Even if you shoot me, you won't get away now," Tim said, almost taunting him.

"Shut up, McGee. Put down the gun. I won't say it again."

David finally looked away from Tim and at the other agent who'd been doing all the talking. He was tempted to shoot anyway. It might almost be worth it...but at the end of the day, it was better to be alive than dead. He put the gun down and put his hands up.

"David Larson, you're under arrest."

"Does NCIS have the authority to arrest for a civilian crime?" David asked.

"Right now, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the attempted murder of a federal agent. We'll deal with the murder of Melissa Banger later."

David rolled his eyes as he was cuffed and he listened to his Miranda rights. Just before he was taken out of the apartment, he looked back at Tim.

"This doesn't change anything, Tim. She's still dead."

Tim came up to him.

"I came here unarmed. Do you know why?"

"Why?" David asked.

"Because if I'd brought a gun in here, you'd already be dead...and Melissa wouldn't want me to kill you. No matter what happens after this, I'm better than you."

David didn't get a chance to reply. He was hauled out of his home and put in a car. All he could think about, though, was how unbelievable it was that Tim had got the best of him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As soon as Tony and Ziva got David out of the room, he let out a loud exhalation.

"McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim turned to him quickly.

"I didn't know he'd have a gun, Boss. I really didn't."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"And if you had?"

"I don't know. I told you about this."

"And?"

"And what?" Tim asked, his mind mostly on David.

"Melissa's father?"

"I already told you once. It was a lot like what I wrote...only there was no one there to stop it."

"How far did it go?" Gibbs asked.

"I told my parents that I'd got in another fight when they asked about the bruises," Tim said. "He believed that it was my fault. The police had asked him about the abortion. He found me and knocked me around a bit. He knew he'd gone too far, but he never took back what he said. As far as he was concerned, I might as well have killed her."

"You didn't, and it wasn't your fault, either."

"Yeah, I know."

Gibbs gestured and Tim nodded.

"It's over."

Tim smiled but shook his head.

"It won't ever really be over," he said. "Not really, Boss."

Then, he walked out of the house.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

They got David back to NCIS and put in holding. Then, it was time to log everything. Gibbs was keeping an eye on Tim. He was less excited about the end of all this than Gibbs had expected. ...of course, Tim had been constantly surprising him during this.

Now, he looked at Tim as he hung up the phone and raised an eyebrow.

"I talked to a Detective Wadsworth," Tim said. "He said that he'd be happy to reopen Melissa's case. As soon as we get everything up there, he'll get going."

"That's great, Probie!" Tony said.

"After all this time, it must feel good to be proven right," Ziva said.

Tim nodded.

"It does."

"You don't look very happy, McGee," Tony said.

"It's not that. It's just kind of... I don't know. I _am_ glad that it worked out. I'm glad that...people are listening to me, finally."

Still, he didn't seem particularly excited, and after a few minutes, he excused himself.

Tony's expression furrowed.

"What's up with McGee?" he asked. "No saying that he told us so...which he _should_. No celebration. Nothing. You'd think that he'd lost instead of won."

"Perhaps it will take time to seep in," Ziva said.

"Sink. He was right there! It was his idea!"

"I do not know. He may not know, either."

"Maybe not. Well, he deserves to celebrate; so he needs to start being happy about it."

Ziva laughed. "You may tell him that."

Gibbs listened to them, but he didn't contribute anything to the conversation. He was thinking about Tim's reactions to pretty much everything as they had gone along.

Tim was thinking about _something_. It was just a matter of what it was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked into the evidence garage and looked at his totaled car. After everything that had happened, it seemed ridiculous that he was thinking about his car, but he was.

He walked over to it and looked at it. The car he'd bought from the money he'd made on _Deep Six_. Destroyed. Even though Louis and David were now under arrest and (hopefully) about to pay for their crimes, all he could think about right now was all that had gone wrong. Everyone whose opinion he really valued had hated his book. It was a bestseller, but not for the people at NCIS. He'd been attacked. His car had been wrecked. ...and Melissa was still dead. Even after everything that had happened, what he couldn't help thinking about was the fact that nothing could change how miserable her last few weeks of life had been, that she had died horribly, that her family had been confronted with what had happened to their daughter without the real answers. Nothing could fix that.

Would this feeling of failure dissipate after a while? It had taken Tim by surprise. The satisfaction he'd got out of seeing David realize that he'd lost had swiftly been replaced by the realization of how little had really changed.

He sighed. It was ridiculous.

Then, on a whim, he opened the car door and got into his car. He put his hands on the wheel and then leaned back and closed his eyes. He would have to get the car towed away, but for the moment, he just wanted to sit here and pretend that there was no problem.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Boss."

Gibbs looked up at Tony.

"McGee's down sitting in his car."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Asking the next question without saying a word. Tony shrugged a little.

"We had an idea that we'd...get his car fixed for him. He's not going to do it himself. He told Abby that it wasn't worth it. Abby's got a friend who's going to give us a deal. ...but we can't do that if he's still sitting in the car."

Gibbs looked at his watch. It was getting late now. They were wrapping things up, at least the most important things. Once they got their reports submitted, David and Louis would be turned over to the federal courts for prosecution. NCIS would be a part of it, but only a part. That was probably best seeing as Tim wasn't exactly objective.

But no one needed to be staying here late.

"You want me to get him out of his car?"

"Yeah. As soon as he's out of there, we're going to get it towed The tow truck's coming in about ten minutes."

Gibbs nodded. It looked like there was one more battle before this could be over. Hopefully, it would be a minor skirmish.

"Thanks, Boss. I thought about doing it myself, but it might look suspicious. It being me and all. McGee won't question you."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and got up. He walked to the elevator and headed down to the evidence garage. When he got off, he saw Tim sitting in the driver's seat of his car. He walked over.

"What's going on, McGee?" he asked.

To Tim's credit, he smiled a little as he opened his eyes.

"Just a little pity party. You don't have to join in, Boss. Invite list of one."

"Pity for what?"

"My car. It's stupid, I know. It's just a car. I never cared about them much before. I'm not like Tony. I don't get attached to them. It's just a mode of transportation."

"So why this one?"

"It's stupid, Boss. I'll get over it."

He started to sit up as if he was going to get out. Gibbs put out a hand to stop him.

"Yeah, you will. Why this one?" he asked again.

Tim looked at him and then back at the car and he sighed.

"Because this is...the... It's what I bought with the money I made from _Deep Six_." He got out of the car and pointed to the crumpled front. "This is the success of my book. Destroyed."

"You can get it fixed, McGee," Gibbs said. "It'll be expensive, but you don't have to leave it this way."

Tim shook his head. "No. I feel like... I'm glad that everyone seems to be forgetting how annoyed they were, but... No one is really happy about _Deep Six_."

"Not even you?"

"I don't regret writing it. I'm glad I did...but even though Melissa is finally going to get justice...I'm not sure that I'm really happy about it being a bestseller. Maybe it's best just to let it go away."

"I thought you were working on a sequel."

"I am. No guarantees that anyone will want to read it, though. Not too many people can catch lightning in a bottle twice."

Gibbs furrowed his brow.

"McGee, what's this really about?"

"I'm just wallowing in self pity, Boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Tim met his gaze and looked away. A sure sign that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"McGee."

"Not much has really changed," Tim said. "Melissa is still dead. Her last days were awful. How much is all this really going to matter?"

"What Larson said got to you, didn't it," Gibbs said.

"I didn't want it to."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know it wasn't. I didn't kill her."

"McGee, it wasn't your fault."

Tim looked at him and then back at the wreck of his Porsche.

"That wasn't, either," Gibbs added drily.

Tim laughed a little but didn't reply.

"I'll get this towed out tomorrow. I don't want to deal with it tonight."

"What are you going to do?"

"It's wrecked. It'll cost more than it's worth to fix it. I'll just get rid of it. Gone and forgotten."

"And?"

"I'm not very excited about driving, to be honest, Boss," Tim admitted. "That still freaks me out a bit. I'll probably just take the bus for a while. I did it when I first moved here. I can do it again."

He'd be doing that regardless, Gibbs knew. That kind of damage couldn't be fixed quickly, but he was glad that the others were taking it upon themselves to make sure the car _did_ get fixed...and he hoped they were getting a _really_ good deal. This was a lot of damage to repair. Much of the front would probably have to be replaced. The engine would have to be rebuilt. Yes, it would probably be cheaper to get another car (provided it wasn't a luxury car), but repairing this car would mean more.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"To _my_ home?" Tim asked hopefully.

Gibbs smiled.

"Yeah. Your home. The people who attacked you are both in custody."

"Yeah."

They walked to the elevator.

"I'll bet you're glad this is over, right, Boss?"

"Aren't you?"

"Yes."

That was extremely heartfelt. Tim was ready to leave this behind...if he could.

"Good."

They walked out of NCIS, and Tim took a breath.

"These last few weeks...have been pretty...crappy, Boss."

Gibbs smiled.

"Yeah."

"I'm ready to go home."

"Okay. Let's go."

Gibbs could see that Tim was still bothered but that he wasn't interested in talking about it any more tonight. A lot of things had happened in a short amount of time. It was understandable that he'd want some time to mull it over alone. Gibbs drove Tim home and let him off. Tim walked into his building without looking back.

Gibbs hoped that Tim would be in a better mood the next day. He would at least have a surprise when he discovered that his car was gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim decided to splurge and take a taxi to work. He had told Gibbs that he didn't want to drive and it was true. He wanted to take a little while to adjust to what had happened the last time he'd got behind the wheel before he took the plunge and started driving again.

And there was something else. He'd told Gibbs that he wasn't going to bother with fixing his car. It would be really expensive, and he was afraid that, with everything being resolved, his life no longer being in danger, that the others would remember their irritation about _Deep Six_. If his car was gone, they wouldn't be reminded of it every day. He still had the nicer clothes, but he'd had those before they knew anything...and he couldn't imagine throwing his entire wardrobe away. That would be expensive to replace. But his car had been almost a heat-of-the-moment decision. He'd been so excited about the money he was making, about the unexpected success of his book that he had done something he would never have imagined himself doing in other circumstances. He had thought about the car he'd wrecked back in high school, and decided to get a great car...as a symbol of things going right for once. The irony was almost painful.

It would be easier to forget everything again if he got rid of everything that had been related to it. Even working on _Rock Hollow_, his sequel, would be easier because the case was one he was making up. Sure, the team would still be there, but he was making up the other characters. No Melissa, no David, no Louis, nothing for anyone to take personally.

As he walked toward the building, Tim was glad to have some chance of getting his life back in gear. Maybe, with some time, everyone would forget what they'd learned about him and he wouldn't worry about what they were thinking.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim was startled and turned around.

"Detective...Warner," Tim said. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?"

Det. Warner smiled as he approached. "I'd heard that your would-be muggers got arrested."

Tim nodded.

"I'm glad."

"Thanks. Uh...was that all? Do you need me to pay for the repairs to the van? My car got the worst of it, but there was plenty of damage to the back of that van. I'm happy to pay for it."

"No, Agent McGee. The van was donated. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Then, was there something else?"

"Yes, actually."

"What is it?"

"I wanted to tell you something now that the major source of stress for you is gone."

Tim furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"I don't blame you for what happened to Det. Benedict."

Tim felt his heart sink. That wasn't something he wanted to think about, either.

"Why tell me this right now? It's not necessary."

Det. Warner smiled again.

"I didn't know him that well, but when one of your own dies, you take notice. Benedict and Archer...two in a few days. Both killed by NCIS. It seemed like a cover-up. I'd never bothered to read the case report. I don't think most of us have."

"I have," Tim said. "Really, you don't have to..."

"But I did after meeting you and after talking to Agent Gibbs. What you did was exactly right. You identified yourself and when shots were fired, you took action. There was no way you could have seen where the shots were coming from and if they were headed to you. No way. If I had been in your place, I'd have done the exact same thing."

"Why now?" Tim asked. "Why tell me about this now?"

"Because you deserve to know that you weren't to blame, that the facts support everything that was said. For some people, when something goes _really_ wrong, they start using that as evidence that they've done _everything_ wrong." He smiled a little. "Now, I'm not saying that _you're_ like that, of course, but it feels like it's better to nip it in the bud before it can get started."

Tim smiled self-consciously.

"You're too late," he said.

"Well, is it too late to keep it from going further?"

"I don't know. The whole thing is over now. I'll get over it eventually."

"Agent McGee, how long have you been an agent?"

"A field agent?"

"Yeah."

"Almost two years. I was a case agent for a while before I got onto Agent Gibbs' team, but I was working with them off and on for almost a year," Tim said, feeling a little defensive.

"Well, if you'll take some advice from a nearly-complete stranger who has a lot more years of experience and no stake in the game, you've got a lot to learn about being on a team and being an agent."

Tim sighed a little.

"Don't I know it."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. You focused in on the part that will mostly solve itself and ignored the part that you have more control over...and matters more, to be honest."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you focused on having a lot to learn about being an agent and missed the part about being a team."

"I know what it means to be on a team. If I didn't, I wouldn't have told them about what I was going to do last night."

"I'm not just talking about on the job. You've got the look of someone who hasn't had many chances to be on a team. It's not just the job. It's everything."

"And what about when your team doesn't feel the same way about it?"

"That's when you dig in and hold out for the long haul. If it's a real team you've got, things will work out. If not, then, you're better off moving on. What situation are you in?"

"I don't know. Things are better now than they were but...it took my life being in danger to fix things and now that all that's done..."

"You don't think that will stay the way things are?"

"I just don't know," Tim admitted. "I'd like to think that all that stuff is over, but...what if I'm wrong? Once everything calms down, you know."

Then, Tim suddenly wondered why it was that he was talking about this to a person he'd exchanged words with only twice before. But maybe that was why. As Det. Warner had said himself, he was a near stranger. There was nothing to lose, no respect, no pity to expect. It was easier.

"I guess that's something you'll have to figure out, but in the meantime, stop thinking about Benedict. You did the right thing. It's just one of those times when the right thing didn't work out...and it couldn't have. It probably wasn't your shot that killed him anyway, and your being there means that there was a witness to what happened to him. And I'm going to say as much to the Metro cops I talk to."

"Why would you do that?" Tim asked. "It won't make a difference to you."

"It will, because it's the truth, and that matters more than what's convenient. Isn't that how you feel?"

Tim thought about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. The truth had definitely not been easy or convenient, just something he'd let consume him, almost beyond reason.

"Yeah."

"That's the point. It's true. Doesn't matter if it's easy or not. Just matters that it's true. The truth doesn't have to make things better, but it's still true. That matters."

"Yeah, it does."

"Anyway, I said what I wanted to say, and I hope you listen because I think you deserve respect for what you've done and for sticking it out through something that could and has made people change careers in the past."

Det. Warner stuck out his hand. Tim hesitated and then shook it. Det. Warner nodded and then headed off, back to work, Tim assumed.

It was an interesting way to start the morning. Tim thought he might be willing to listen. Still, as he continued on his way inside, he thought that getting rid of his car would be the best option, the best way to ensure that he didn't lose his team. He just wanted one last look at it.

He set his stuff down at his desk and then headed down to the evidence garage.

...and he stopped stock still.

The space where his car had been sitting was empty. Where was it?

"Hey, Probie. Thought I saw your stuff up there."

Tim whirled around.

"Where's my car? I was...going to get it...towed this morning."

Tony grinned. "Yeah, well, we decided that we'd save you the cost of a tow. We chipped in and got it taken care of last night."

"Oh." Tim felt an unexpected sense of loss, as if he'd missed saying good-bye to a good friend...but he wasn't going to admit that to _Tony_ of all people. He clearly thought he'd done Tim a favor. "Thanks, Tony."

"You don't sound very grateful, McGee," Tony said.

Tim looked back at the empty space and then at Tony.

"No, I _am_, Tony. I really am. Thanks for...doing that."

"No problem. Gibbs is going to be telling us to get to work soon. You'd better get upstairs."

"Yeah. I'll be right up."

Tony clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good to have you back without people trying to kill you."

"I'm glad there aren't people trying to kill me, too."

Tony went back to the elevator and Tim waited until the elevator doors closed. Then, he looked back at the empty space one more time and sighed.

It looked like the whole _Deep Six_ thing was really over. Good and bad. It was time to say good-bye.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

_Three weeks later..._

Tim got to work and checked the news like usual. There had been a big story about the case a couple of weeks ago, and then, another smaller story about Melissa's murder being reopened and charges being filed against David with Louis being an accessory. Tim was glad, but he still felt like it wasn't enough. He hadn't told anyone that, however. Things were still going well and he wasn't going to mess that up by moaning about a car. It was a car! He'd started thinking about going shopping for a new one. While he'd been willing to ride the bus and the Metro when he first moved to DC, he'd now been spoiled by the convenience of having his own set of wheels. He'd have to go and find something to drive. Not as flashy or as expensive. Just something to get him from point A to point B.

He hadn't done anything more than think about it so far, though.

When Tony and Ziva came in, they exchanged conspiratorial glances...as they had been for at least a week. Tim thought about asking them what was going on, but then, he decided that he didn't want to know.

They all just got to work. It was the end of another case and reports needed to be written up and filed. There was always something to be done whether there was an active case or not. They all dove into it without much more than a few words exchanged.

After lunch, at about two, Tim's desk phone rang.

"Agent McGee."

"_Hey, Agent McGee. You've got a visitor down here."_

Tim felt very wary. That hadn't gone so well last time.

"Who is it?"

"_Says his name is..."_ There was a pause and some muffled conversation. _"...Vaughn Banger."_

"Oh." Tim wasn't sure he felt any better hearing _that_ name. He hadn't seen Melissa's father since he'd knocked Tim around and told him not to show his face at Melissa's funeral.

"_Want me to tell him you're busy?"_ Henry asked. He'd apologized a few times after what had happened the last time he admitted two unexpected visitors.

"No. No, I'll come down."

"_You sure?"_

"Positive."

Tim hung up.

"Who is it, McGee?" Ziva asked. "You look like someone walked over your tombstone."

"Grave. Just grave, Ziva," Tony corrected.

"It is the same thing, is it not?"

"Yeah, but it's not the right word."

"Whatever. Who was it?" she asked again.

"Melissa's dad."

Tony got up. So did Ziva.

"We'll talk to him for you," Tony said darkly. "If he was anything like in your book..."

"No, Tony. I'll talk to him...but in plain sight. If Gibbs comes in, I'll only be a minute or two. I have to know what he wants."

"All right, all right," Tony said. "But if he does anything else..."

"You'll be the first to know," Tim said with a smile. "Or second. Henry will probably be watching."

"I am sure he will," Ziva said.

Tim smiled and headed down to the entrance. When he got there, he paused just out of sight so that he could get a look at Mr. Banger. He looked a lot like Tim remembered him. His face was more lined and all his hair was gray. Otherwise, a lot the same. Tim reminded himself that _he_ was different, that Mr. Banger couldn't overwhelm him this time. He took a deep breath and walked out, keeping his expression neutral.

"Hi, Henry," he said. "Mr. Banger?"

Melissa's father looked surprised, and Tim smiled a little.

"Tim...you've changed a lot."

"You haven't."

He clearly heard what Tim meant.

"Would you mind talking for a few minutes?" he asked.

"Only a couple. I have work to do."

"All right."

Tim gestured. As he started for the door, Henry grabbed his arm.

"Is it all right, Agent McGee? I mean, _really_? Not like last time?"

"It's fine. I promise. He's not the kind of man who would...put on an act. He's very direct."

_To put it mildly_, Tim thought to himself.

He walked out of the building across the street to Willard Park.

"What did you want?" he asked.

"A detective called us a couple of weeks ago, told us that there was new evidence, that our daughter had been murdered, that she didn't commit suicide."

Tim nodded without comment.

"He said that it was...due to you."

Tim still said nothing, waiting to hear what the explanation was...and he wasn't quite noble enough to help him out at all.

"I asked him about it, and he told me about you, about what had happened...and where you were."

"Okay?" Tim asked.

"And I...I really owe you an apology."

"Yeah, you do, but you did before you found out that you were wrong about me. You owed me an apology when you hit me and pushed me down...when you blamed me for Melissa's death."

"You're right. My wife said the same."

"So...why now? What were you expecting?"

"Nothing really...but what I did and said was wrong, and even though it's late to be doing it, I needed to make it right. I shouldn't have said anything to you before, and once I did, I should have apologized. I was blaming you to keep from blaming myself."

Tim shook his head.

"Even if Melissa _had_ committed suicide, it wouldn't have been my fault and it wouldn't have been yours. She always knew what she was doing...except for when she got raped. She knew what she was going to do when she got pregnant, but beyond that...she didn't know what to do. I didn't, either. We were talking about it. David told me that she said I was right, that she was going to listen to me. So if you still need someone else to blame, you _can_ blame me. Her decision to tell you is was made David decide to kill her."

Mr. Banger sighed.

"The only one I blame is the man who killed my daughter. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Tim was ready for the conversation to be over. He was still getting over all this himself, and he didn't need to be thrust back into the past again. He also knew that Melissa would have hated knowing that her friend and her father were at odds like this.

"I accept your apology, Mr. Banger. Good luck."

He put out his hand, hoping that Mr. Banger got the message that he was done talking.

He did.

Mr. Banger shook Tim's hand and then walked away. Tim looked after him and then went back inside.

"Everything all right, Agent McGee?"

"Yeah. He was just apologizing...for things that happened more than ten years ago."

"Better late than never."

"I don't know about that...but I'm glad it's over."

Henry smiled and patted his shoulder.

"Go knock 'em dead, Agent McGee."

"How about I go back to my desk instead?"

"That'll work."

Henry waved him back to the elevator. Tim got on and went back to the bullpen.

"How did it go?" Ziva asked.

"Fine. He apologized, but...I just wanted him to go," Tim said. "I just want this to be over."

"Well, no one else left to talk to, right?" Tony asked.

"Right."

Gibbs came in, then, and they all got back to work. Tim was glad that he had something to occupy his mind. An apology from Melissa's dad was nice and all, but he didn't want to think about that anymore if he could avoid it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_John stood, staring at the tree. He sighed and tried to be happy about the arrest of Colin and Lawrence. They had killed Sandra, and they were going to pay for it. They were going to get exactly what they deserved for destroying such a beautiful person._

_...and yet, he felt depressed._

"_Hey, John."_

_John looked up and saw one of the agents. He didn't know this one. He was younger and he looked a little nerdy, to be honest._

"_Who are you?" he asked._

_The man smiled. "Agent McGregor. I work with Agent Tibbs."_

"_Oh. I guess you'll all be leaving now?"_

_McGregor smiled and nodded. "Yeah. The case is over, and we've got to move on to the next one. Our job is never over. You don't look too happy."_

"_I'm not," John admitted._

_McGregor sat down beside him, looking strangely knowing._

"_Why?"_

"_Because...look at everything that happened. I couldn't save Sandy. She's still dead. Nothing has really changed."_

"_It won't change, but you know what?"_

"_What?"_

"_Sandy wouldn't want you to live your life looking back to the past. She'd want you to move forward."_

"_How do I do that?"_

_McGregor smiled sympathetically and put a hand on John's shoulder._

"_One day at a time, John. Eventually, things will get better. I promise."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_Because I've been there."_

"_McGregor! Time to go!"_

_McGregor looked over at Tommy and waved._

"_Good luck, John. Remember what I said."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The sun had gone down, and Tim leaned back and stretched in his chair. While he was reaching his hands toward the ceiling, Tony's phone rang and he answered quickly.

"Right now?" Tony asked. "You sure? Don't lie to me, Abbs."

Tim let his hands down and looked at Tony. Tony ignored him.

"If you're sure..."

Tim looked at Ziva, but she was looking intently at Tony. Was there something going on that he'd been left out of? That was kind of depressing.

Then, Tony hung up his phone, looked at Ziva and then at Gibbs. ...and then, finally at Tim. He grinned.

"Okay, McGee. Come on."

Tony stood up.

"What do you mean? Come where? We're still working!"

Tim looked at Gibbs and was surprised to see Gibbs looking pretty satisfied.

"Outside. It won't take long. Promise."

"What's outside?"

"The world, Probie! Come on!"

"But..."

Ziva got up, too.

"Come, McGee. It will be worth it."

"Boss?" Tim asked.

"Might as well go with him, McGee. He's not going to do anything until you do."

Tim shrugged. "Okay...if that's what you want."

He got up and let Tony drag him to the elevator. Then, they went down, out the front door.

...and Tim stopped, in spite of Tony dragging him along.

Just in front of the building sat a car. A Porsche.

Abby ran up the sidewalk and hugged him tightly.

"Surprise, Tim!" she said.

"Surprise?" he asked weakly.

"Yes! Surprise!"

"What–?"

"It's your car!"

"But...but...it... you towed it..." he said.

"To a garage," Tony said, grinning. "You never asked where we towed it _to_."

"You... No," Tim said. "No, you couldn't have. The damage...it was too much! I can't let you...pay for...for that! I..."

"Don't worry. We got a great deal," Abby said. "I have a friend who's training in car repair, and he offered to do this as part of his training. He said that he expects to get a great endorsement from Thom Gemcity when he's done."

Tim still hadn't moved. He was just staring at his car. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Tony started pushing him forward from behind. Abby dragged him from the front and slowly he stumbled down the sidewalk.

"What do you think, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim looked at the car. He couldn't even tell where the repairs had been made. It was seamless. The paint color might be slightly different, but at that, Tim wasn't sure. He reached out and touched it. Then, he ran his hand down and over the hood.

"Wow."

"Do you want it?" Tony asked.

Tim laughed. He could no more refuse to take his car back than he could shoot himself in the foot. If he had suddenly started flying, he couldn't be more happy about it.

Tony jingled the keys and Tim looked at him.

"Now, there's one thing you've got to satisfy me on."

"What's that?" Tim asked.

"Promise that your next book won't be about _another_ unsolved case from your past. We don't need all this again."

Tim grinned. "Promise. The case has elements from real-life cases, but nothing from my past. No personal connection."

"No old bullies coming to try to kill you?"

"No. Promise. This is just a book. No one will have a personal stake in it."

Tony feigned deep consideration and then he held out the keys. Tim snatched them.

"Remember. You promised."

"Cross my heart," Tim said.

Then, he got serious.

"Guys...thanks. Really. I...I can't even think of how to say how grateful I am that you did this. I was just going to junk it. It would have been so expensive and...and I figured you'd all rather forget about it, too."

"This is _your_ car, McGee," Ziva said. "You deserve it."

"Thanks."

Tim got in the car to drive it to a parking space. Then, he looked back at his friends and he smiled and waved. He was tempted just to go for a drive, but he couldn't do that. So he parked the car and walked back to the bullpen. Tony and Ziva were already back at their desks working.

Gibbs looked up.

"Over?" he asked.

"Yeah, Boss. It's over."

Tim sat down at his desk and got back to work.

FINIS!


End file.
